


Sail Thou Forth (The Untold Want Remix)

by fifty_fifty



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Gwen/Lancelot - Freeform, Background Leon/Morgana, Background Relationships, Bottom Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Bottom Merlin, Camelot Remix, Consensual Infidelity, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, First Meetings, First Time, Flirting, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Infidelity - Not M/A, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Remix, Romance, Separations, Switching, Top Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Top Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-16 04:35:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14804466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fifty_fifty/pseuds/fifty_fifty
Summary: Trapped in a marriage of convenience, Merlin Emrys doesn't believe in love at first sight - or true love at all, for that matter.That is, until he meets Arthur Pendragon, an extraordinary man whose courage inspires him to begin the career that he has always longed for, and in whose arms Merlin begins to hope for better things.But society isn't kind to men like them, and both must overcome tremendous obstacles before they will be free to live the life they've been dreaming of.





	Sail Thou Forth (The Untold Want Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Untold Want](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004451) by [Cookie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cookie/pseuds/Cookie). 



> Cookie, I hope that you have as much fun reading this, as I had writing it. It was a joy to read your work (although I had already read many of your stories before) and when I happened upon this story I knew that I had to chose it for remix.
> 
> A huge thank you to my beta reader, the wonderful [Schweet_heart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/pseuds/schweet_heart)! Who is amazing and always so supportive and encouraging. I learn so much from you. Thanks again!
> 
> As Cookie notes in the original fic, their story is based on _Now, Voyager (1942)_ , starring Bette Midler and Paul Henreid http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0035140/, which in turn is inspired by a novel of the same name by Olive Higgins Prouty (Inception enough for you yet?) who borrowed her title from the Walt Whitman poem “The Untold Want”. 
> 
> I will confess, I have never seen the film, nor have I read the book, so I am basing my story on Cookie’s fic (and Whitman’s gorgeous poem). But maybe I will have successfully channeled both.
> 
> As with Cookie’s fic, there is a strong theme of infidelity (consensual) running through the story (not between Merlin and Arthur). And also period-typical homophobia.

_The untold want, by life and land ne'er granted,  
Now, Voyager, sail thou forth to seek and find._  
Walt Whitman

The sea was calm and serene as the sun set across its dark blue expanse, and Merlin smiled to himself as he inhaled a deep lungful of salty air. The light breeze caressed his face and ruffled his hair like a lover. It was so peaceful here out on deck with everyone else inside to dine. At moments like this, Merlin didn’t feel like he needed things so frivolous as food; the fact that he was here watching this magnificent sunset was nourishment enough. He watched, his eyes drinking in the beauty like a cactus in a rainstorm, but as the sun dipped below the horizon he felt his body sag, the spell broken. His body and mind suddenly became heavier as the worries of the world squirmed their way back into his consciousness.

He ought to be grateful. He was on a cruise, meeting interesting people and getting to explore new countries in his spare time. Who wouldn’t envy such a fate? And yet, it was difficult to appreciate it all when he was stuck in a predicament such as his. Bound by a loveless marriage, to a woman who had enchanted him with her beauty and cutting wit, much as the preceding sunset had held him captive with its sorcery. She had been very pretty—still was—but Merlin did not desire Sophie in that way. He did not desire any woman in that manner, and he had been a fool to believe that he could pretend to, even if she had given him the one thing he held dearer than anything else in the world: their son, Mordred. 

Merlin’s thoughts turned to him now, his boy who had once been so happy and full of joy. Perhaps he was being selfish and cowardly for taking the easy way out, leaving Mordred to Sophie’s care whilst he escaped on this cruise. He did not have to take this client; Kanen had been uncharacteristically kind and offered to employ Dempsey on this trip, suggesting it be easier for a bachelor to undertake such a long business trip when Merlin had a wife and child at home. But Merlin had greedily jumped at the opportunity. It had been too long since he had had a chance to be himself. A cruise such as this offered a chance for both intimacy and anonymity, should he find himself a willing partner who also harboured such clandestine desires.

He really shouldn’t think of such things. But Sophie knew the lay of the land now, even though she had tried every trick she could think of to try and change him. The problem was, Merlin wasn’t sure that his affliction was something that _could_ be changed. It was something that was a part of him and had always been a part of him. Sophie had snarled at him and called him sinful and an abomination against God. But eventually they had come to an agreement. Merlin would give her a child, and in return, he would be allowed to have a few dalliances, so long as he was discreet about what he did and with whom, and always made sure that he was far enough away from home to ensure he was never recognised by anyone who might know them.

Merlin began to hear the tell-tale sounds that dinner was over; footsteps echoing further along the deck and the gentle sound of happy voices that drifted down towards him. Merlin frowned and felt inside his jacket for a cigarette. As he took one from the case and stuck it between his lips, he caught sight of Mr and Mrs du Lac—very old friends of his that he’d been delighted to find on board.They were walking along the deck with two ladies Merlin had met earlier in the week, a pair of sisters who were traveling for pleasure. As Merlin leaned against the railings of the ship, he heard Gwen’s happy laughter pealing into the quiet night. He rooted around in his pocket for his lighter, and as the little group headed towards him, he lit the cigarette and turned around to face them fully. He could see what Lancelot saw in Gwen; she was vivacious, amusing and kind, as well as being a pretty lass to boot. He inhaled gently on his cigarette, taking a few deep draws until it was fully lit. Yes, Gwen was very pretty, but it was the love between the pair that Merlin found the most appealing, he decided. Gwen adored her husband and Lancelot worshipped the very ground his wife walked on. It was a pleasure to see. 

He pocketed the lighter and let the cigarette dangle from his lips as Lancelot reached him, holding out own his hand to shake Merlin’s in greeting. “Ah, Merlin, my friend!” he exclaimed. “It’s such a pleasant night. Will you come for a stroll with us to accompany Misses Charlotte and Lisa back to their cabin?”

Merlin drew a deep puff on his cigarette and when he exhaled, he let the smoke slowly trickle from his lips. “Of course. Lead the way, ladies,” he said, gesturing onwards.

Lancelot smiled, his eyes glued to his wife as she passed them before he matched pace with Merlin. They chatted cordially about their day, but as they walked Merlin could tell Lancelot had something on his mind. At last, when they fell behind the ladies, Lancelot spoke up.

“So, Merlin, tell me, how are you doing? How is it going with Sophie?” he asked quietly. 

Merlin sighed, his whole body rising and falling with it. He flicked away the butt of his cigarette and almost as quickly reached again for his cigarette case. He offered one to Lancelot before taking another for himself. “As well as it’s always been, Lance. I stay for Drey, you know that.” They paused a moment to light their cigarettes, sheltering the flames from the wind with cupped hands. “She would stop me seeing him if I ceased to play her little charade.”

Lancelot looked at him, his dark eyes full of sympathy. “I’m sorry, my friend.” 

Merlin tapped the ash off his cigarette, watching as the wind caught it and pushed it along the deck. “So am I. More than you know. But I suppose that I should be thankful for small mercies and that she does at least allow me small indulgences from time to time.” 

“I suppose you intend to take advantage of that on this cruise?” 

Merlin shrugged and took another drag of his cigarette, savouring it as he slowly exhaled. He watched the smoke, his eyes tracing the shape of it in the night air. “Perhaps. Should the right man catch my eye, but not simply for the sake of it.”

Lancelot sighed deeply. “Speaking of. Gwen wanted me to mention that she has a friend onboard that she thought you might enjoy meeting. His name is George.”

Merlin chuckled. Gwen was always trying her hand at matchmaking, and if she wasn’t trying to pair him off with another man so inclined, then she was trying to find a suitable man for a bonny, young girl she had recently met or getting a reluctant spinster to meet with a newly-widowed gentleman. Ultimately, she just wanted everyone to be as in love as she was. Merlin could appreciate the sentiment, but could not help but feel that, in his case, it was misplaced. He doubted he’d ever meet someone he could love as much as she loved Lancelot.

“Oh, does she now?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow at Lancelot with a grin.

“Yes, she does. Personally, I wash my hands of it. But she insisted I tell you,” said Lancelot, heaving a weary sigh. “She said he’s a ‘pleasant chap’ who is ‘very ambitious to get on in the world’. But is in desperate need of some ‘male companionship’.”

Merlin’s stifled a laugh at Lancelot’s intonation. They had both heard Gwen make similar pitches about such men before. ‘Ambitious’ usually translated to either stiff, pretentious or boring—often all three at once!—and ‘desperate need’ usually meant the gentleman would not be picky about looks. Merlin would sooner go without meeting anyone on this trip than be forced to entertain a man matching that description. He wasn’t vain, nor did he think himself particularly attractive, but he did have _some_ standards for his liaisons.

“She’s still matchmaking then? Good to see that some things never change.”

Lancelot nodded. “So, what say you, Merlin?” he asked, folding his arms behind his back. “I’ve been instructed to report back to her this evening.”

“I think that you might thank her for me, for I do appreciate the interest, and she’s often had a good eye for suitable friends in the past. But on this occasion, I must decline.”

Lancelot gave him a curt nod and changed the subject, obviously relieved. But even as they talked, Merlin’s thoughts drifted. He wondered very briefly, what would happen if he could turn back time and reconsider his decision to marry Sophie. How different would his life have been? He had been young and scared when they had met and Merlin had been convinced that if he just worked hard enough he would be able to rid himself of his perversity. He’d been convinced that it would be better than the alternative of admitting his desires to himself. Of course, Merlin knew better now. If man was made in God's image, there must be something about Him that would also be this way inclined. Sophie would have slapped him for desecrating God in such a vulgar way, but if God were real, then it just seemed logical to Merlin that it must be so. 

Even if Merlin could have undone their marriage, however, he was not sure that he would be able to go through with it. They had Mordred now, and Merlin loved his son too much to wipe him from the face of existence. The very thought made him him sick to his stomach.

With their conversation having reached its natural conclusion, Lancelot hastened to go and accompany his wife. When he caught up with her, Lancelot linked their arms together and Gwen smiled brightly, planting a kiss on his cheek. This dear gesture made Merlin’s heart ache with such acute longing, it almost physically hurt. He looked out over the water, which had started to reflect the boat’s lights back to them as the darkness of the night drew in and he wondered if he might ever experience such love. The possibility of it seemed as distant to him as the boat was from the shore.

 

**

 

Later in the week, Merlin found himself following Lancelot into the gentleman’s lounge after dinner. It was a cozy room with dark wood panelling and a bar at one end, with a plethora of comfortable leather armchairs scattered around the room, the ideal location for men to indulge themselves in pleasant after dinner conversation away from their wives. The room was crowded and there were no chairs to be had, so Merlin and Lancelot settled down together on stools at the bar.

“I’ve not seen you with anyone yet, Merlin,” noted Lancelot, his voice quiet as he leaned closer to Merlin. “No one eye-catching enough?” 

Merlin sighed and stubbed out the last of his cigarette in the ashtray. He swirled the whisky in his glass. “I don’t know. I’m just… I’m getting tired of it, I suppose. I’ve not had many... dalliances, as you’re aware. But I would be lying if I said that I didn’t want more than a body warming my bed for a night these days. You know that.” 

“But you are not free to do so,” Lancelot reminded him, as Merlin knew all too well. “Perhaps,” he added, with a significant look, “it’s time to think about changing that.” 

Merlin shook his head. “No, Lancelot. Look, I know that you disapprove of our arrangement. You have made that clear. But I have already burdened Sophie with a husband who cannot fulfill his matrimonial duties. I will not saddle her with the embarrassment of a failed marriage as well.” Merlin slumped back on his stool with a frown, the fight momentarily gone from him. “Besides, before I went away, she was hinting that when I get back she would like to try for a daughter.” 

“ _Merlin_ ,” said Lancelot warningly. “You know I only disagree because I can see how unhappy she makes you, and how unhappy she makes herself. Not to mention Drey. It is not healthy. I thought you had agreed on only the one child?” 

“You and I both,” Merlin said with a snort. “But she will hold Mordred and my… _proclivities_ over me, just as she did the last time.” He sighed deeply. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Drey with all my heart. But I do not think I can, in good faith, bring another child into this... mess. I think he is starting to realise what is going on and I don’t want to subject another child to Sophie’s whims, but...” Merlin went to take another gulp of his drink and frowned down at the empty glass. “If that is what Sophie wants, then that will likely be the eventual outcome. I will not let her take Drey from me. I won’t. But if I refuse, well, then she would surely try to do so.” 

“Oh, Merlin, surely that is not fair to any of you. You are both already miserable; another child will not help that. I beg of you to reconsider.” 

“Yes, yes. I will think about it,” said Merlin with a wave of his hand. “Anyway, enough of that morbid talk. Be gone! Now, look, are you sure I cannot convince you to come on one last sojourn to the shore before I leave?” 

Lancelot shook his head sadly. “I wish I could, but alas, tomorrow is not a good day for it. I’m sorry, Merlin. I do hope that it is a pleasant trip and you enjoy yourself.”

Merlin nodded at him, attempting a smile. “I shall, Lance. I can feel it.”

Lancelot stood and drained his glass, smiling back as he reached for his hat. “And on that note, I wish you a good night, Mr Emrys. My beautiful Gwen awaits!”

With a grin, Merlin watched as Lancelot left the bar. As soon as his friend was gone from sight, however, he let the smile fall from his face. Oh, to have a love such as that, Merlin thought longingly. What a joy that would be.

 

**

 

The next morning, Merlin dressed early and readied himself for his excursion to the shore. It was his last trip before he disembarked to carry out his business and meet with a distant cousin from his mother’s side, so he decided to make the most of his free time. He hummed to himself as he checked his reflection and straightened his collar in the mirror. He had watched the sun rising from inside his cabin that morning, and as it glittered on the ocean waves he felt confident that it was going to be a beautiful day. Finally, he decided that he was quite presentable, and as the clock chimed seven ‘o’clock he headed off to start his day.

Once he had eaten, he went to speak with Mr Killgarah, the purser, about the next tender to the shore. Killgarah had assured Merlin that everything was ready and waiting for him. “Seize the day, as destiny intends you to, young man,” he had told Merlin. Merlin only just resisted rolling his eyes at him. Even though the old man was good at his job, he always seemed to talk in riddles. 

The final boat was getting ready to depart, and Merlin had already settled himself inside when the crewman stopped and went to speak with a man on the deck of the ship. Merlin glanced up from beneath his hat and was struck momentarily breathless. Who was this man? So beautiful, with hair the colour of corn fields. So handsome, so dapperly dressed. If Merlin believed in such things, he might have said that it was love at first sight. But no, he could not allow himself to indulge in fantasy. Not when his hand was promised elsewhere, even if his heart had made no such bargain.

Merlin listened as the crewman asked the man to share his boat and at last caught his name. _Beauchamp_. French, perhaps? Although, Merlin would not have pegged him as such: he was dressed in such a typically English style. As Beauchamp got into the boat, he blushed and stammered so beautifully that Merlin could not even feel sorry for him, for it was so very touching and sweet. He smiled to himself as he extended his hand to the other man. “You don’t mind if I kidnap you, do you, Mr Beauchamp?” he said with amusement.

“Not at all,” Beauchamp replied in a jovial, very English voice. His hand in Merlin’s was soft and unblemished, and yet his handshake was warm and firm, as a man’s grip should be. Merlin found himself unwilling to let go. “It’s more fun to travel with company, isn’t it?”

They chatted cordially as the crewman rowed them to the shore, exchanging niceties about their time on the cruise ship. Merlin could feel his heart flutter in his chest as he listened to his companion speak enthusiastically about the cruise. It was Beauchamp’s first time on a boat and he was excited to see what Argentina had to offer, and his excitement was infectious. Even though he knew he shouldn’t, with a little bit of persuasion Merlin managed to convince Beauchamp to share his carriage, so that he could learn more about this man who had so readily caught his fancy and they would not be forced to part company just yet.

It could not, _could not_ be any more than that, Merlin knew. But there was no reason why they could not have a pleasant day together.

Beauchamp situated himself in the carriage across from Merlin and smiled rather merrily as they got their first proper look at each other. His beauty was even more breathtaking up close. Along with his carefully coiffed blond hair, he had eyes as blue and clear as the summer sky, and his smile could set the world ablaze with its brilliance. Merlin tamped down on his feelings again and searched for something appropriate to say. He found his thoughts drifting to Mordred and his love for little trinkets and keepsakes, the way his eyes would light up when Merlin returned home from a visit with a new gift.

“Perhaps you could help me choose a present for my son, Mordred. I promised him I would buy him something from each port I visit.”

He could see the exact moment Beauchamp realised what he was saying, as his smile and jovial manner faltered.

“Of course,” the young man agreed, but his cool tone communicated his disappointment all too clearly. 

Merlin felt his stomach flip and a surge of want ran through him. So Beauchamp _did_ feel the same way, then. Merlin had been having his suspicions, but this seemed to confirm it. Beauchamp looked away from him, and Merlin could not bear it. He reached out and brushed his fingers long the inside of the man’s wrist. Beauchamp’s beautiful blue eyes met his and Merlin did his best to communicate his apologies to him, his regret that he was not simply free to return his affections. Beauchamp’s throat dipped when he swallowed, and he looked down to where Merlin’s fingers still rested, lingering on his wrist for far longer than would ever be thought appropriate by society at large. Merlin could feel the way his pulse thrummed, beating rapidly against Merlin’s touch, and found himself swallowing hard, too. 

He glanced up at Beauchamp, who was blushing so prettily that Merlin was suddenly very glad that it was not his own pulse the gentleman was feeling. He smiled a secret smile at him, and slid his fingers over Beauchamp’s skin in a lingering, loving caress as he slowly released him.

The rest of the morning continued much like that—a tussle of flirting and dark, knowing looks, interspersed with Merlin talking about Sophie. For some reason, he found himself taking great pains to recall her fondly to Beauchamp, talking about how they had met and her extreme joy and pride at becoming a mother. He did not want the other man to think ill of her, but the longer he spoke about her the more he came to hate the situation in which he had placed himself. As the morning drew on, Merlin talked less of Sophie and more of Mordred. It was easier that way; he did not have to guard his tongue against embittered thoughts.

“We did have a thorough discussion about it,” he said to Beauchamp. “But Mordred insisted. He wanted a nickname, _‘but not just any nickname, Father. It has to feel right.’_ I spent a week calling him Mords and less than a day calling him Mordy, until we finally struck on Drey, and that’s the name that stuck.”

It was then that Arthur confessed that he was not, in fact, Mr Andre Beauchamp at all, but that he had merely traveled on the other man’s ticket on a last minute cruise for his health. The man’s name was actually Arthur Pendragon, and Merlin could not help the way his smile curled on his lips that Arthur had trusted him enough to make this confession to him.

Spotting a shop with toys in the window, Merlin insisted that they go in to look. Drey loved toys, especially the kind of models Merlin had spied in the enticing window display. This would likely be just the gift to bring back for him. As he searched the shop, eager to find the perfect toy, Merlin watched Arthur explore the aisle across from him. Arthur’s fingers were resting lightly on the box of a model airplane. He looked sad and melancholy, deep in thought. Merlin longed to cross the shop and brush his hands against Arthur’s to break him from such sadness. Instead, he turned and picked up a pennant to add to the gift—Drey loved learning the flags for all of the places Merlin had visited—and made his way over to his companion.

“What is that you’re looking at?” he asked, glancing over at the boxes, his shoulder brushing up against Arthur’s unnecessarily.

“A plane. Do you think Mordred would like it?” Arthur asked, hesitantly.

“That is absolutely perfect, Arthur.” Oh, how he longed to say those words to him for a completely different reason. “Drey will love it.”

Arthur’s fingers traced the lettering on the box, and again he seemed silent and lost in his thoughts. It had not escaped Merlin’s notice that he had been doing to majority of the talking that morning. Even though Arthur had responded kindly, even, many times, flirtatiously to him, Merlin still did not know much about this quiet, yet rather interesting man. Certainly, there seemed to be some kind of sorrow attached to his life, perhaps to do with his childhood, but Merlin had little inkling of what it could be.

“Let’s get some lunch?” he suggested. Arthur startled and coloured as he was pulled from his thoughts, and Merlin suspected that he had forgotten that Merlin was even there. Arthur readily agreed with the suggestion and let Merlin lead the way, but he was still quiet and contemplative as they entered the restaurant.

Then, whilst they took their luncheon together, Arthur seemed to suddenly bloom before Merlin’s eyes. Confessing that he had never been allowed such frivolous gifts as a child, oh Arthur... Merlin felt such sympathy for him, and in his head he instantly pictured the sad and lonely boy denied such simple pleasures by his domineering father.

Arthur had, at least, been encouraged to paint, he told Merlin, and Merlin smiled as he asked him more questions about his art. Arthur was modest though, insisting resolutely that anyone could draw—so much so that Merlin knew he had to prove him wrong.

“No, believe me – I can just manage stick figures,” insisted Merlin. “Look.” He pulled out his pen from his suit jacket and looked around eagerly for something to draw on, just to prove his point. He grabbed a paper napkin from the table, tapping his pen against his lip in contemplation. And then it came to him in a sudden moment of inspiration, and with a small smirk he scratched out his masterpiece—two stick figure men, one with a lopsided crown and the other with a pointed hat and wand. He presented it to Arthur with a flourish.

It had the desired effect. Arthur guffawed loudly, throwing back his head as he laughed. It made Merlin’s heart flutter strangely in his chest to watch him.

“See, you are Arthur, like the king in the legends. And my mother, for my sins,” he explained, “called me Merlin – so this is me.”

Merlin beamed at Arthur, who was grinning right back at him, until he looked down at the sketch again and scowled suddenly, as he screwed up his face. “I’m not very king-like,” he murmured to himself. Merlin was sure he was not supposed to hear, but he couldn’t let it go. 

“Oh, Arthur,” he said, his voice brimming with warmth and barely concealed emotion. “You really are.” And he found himself reaching out to him, touching the inside of his wrist again, as he had done back in the carriage.

Their eyes met with a heated look, and Merlin swallowed as he heard Arthur’s breath hitching. He knew then and there that he was gone—hopelessly head-over-heels for Arthur—and the feelings that were unfolding in his chest, like a flower on a sunny spring morning, only intensified as they sat there staring at each other. Merlin felt sure that his heart would beat clean out of his chest, before he was finally able to compose himself.

“So, tell me, Arthur, how much longer are you on the cruise? Where is your last port of call? And where are you most looking forward to visiting?”

Arthur relaxed back into his chair and pulled out an ornate silver cigarette case, holding it out to offer one to Merlin, which he gladly accepted. “You sure do ask a lot of questions,” he complained as he lit a match. “Honestly, where do I start…”

Soon they were lost in an easy conversation that Merlin had so rarely experienced with other men. It was obvious that Arthur was an accomplished, handsome and humorous man. Yet Merlin could not quite fathom him out. It was as though Arthur was feeling out the world and testing his wings for the first time. But surely Arthur was too old for this to be his first foray into society? Merlin just couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

As the afternoon drew on, Merlin excused himself to telephone home. It was such a blessed relief to hear Drey’s voice down the tinny telephone line, even if he had to deal with a frosty, spiteful Sophie first. Guilt twisted once more in his gut as he spoke to her, whilst he watched Arthur sleeping peacefully in the shade of a tree. He couldn't help wishing it were Arthur he were joined to and not his wife, and were he free to make such choice he would have done so in a heartbeat; yet no matter how badly he wanted to offer himself to Arthur in heart, body and soul, they could never truly be together. In the eyes of society, at least, he belonged to Sophie.

Once his call was concluded, he saw that Arthur slept on, so Merlin slipped back to the toy shop in search of a gift for him, a small thank you for his company. He knew exactly what to buy as soon as he spotted them. They were of poor quality for an artist such as Arthur, he was sure, but with such short notice it was the best that he could manage to procure. Merlin asked the clerk to wrap the gift in paper; a simple child’s set of watercolours and a small sketchpad. It was not much, but he hoped that it might at least inspire Arthur to pursue his talent once more.

When he made his way back to the village green, he found Arthur awake and waiting for him. Merlin smiled to himself as he felt the weight of his gift against his chest, tucked inside his jacket. Invigorated by the rest, Arthur was the best companion that he could have asked for, and Merlin was glad that he had bought him a gift. His found that his fingers kept lingering on his jacket, touching the slim packet through the material during the rest of their day together. The conversation had grown less as they got closer to the port, and Arthur had taken to watching the scenery outside the carriage, drinking it in as Merlin was doing with him. Merlin really thought that Arthur was a marvel; he did not seem to know how much power he had, and yet he seemed to be wielding it with Merlin as and when needed, as though he were a knight born to the sword. Merlin admired and loved him all the more for it.

He waited until almost the last minute to give his gift, afraid that Arthur might refuse it. Finally, when they were about to part, Merlin passed him the slim package, wrapped up in brown parcel paper and string. His hand lingered on it as he pressed it into Arthur’s waiting hands. “This is for you,” he said with a shy smile, “a small thank you for your help and company today.” He paused for just a quick moment, wondering if it would be too presumptuous to ask. Surely not, since they had both sincerely enjoyed each other's company today? “Will you join me for dinner this evening?”

“With pleasure. B–but I, I can’t take this.”

“Yes, you can. I was thinking that I would be adventuring on my own today. I want to express my gratitude for your quick wit and companionship.”

Arthur’s cheeks bloomed with colour as he bashfully looked away from Merlin, but he was unable to hide the smile underneath all his fluster and Merlin only wished that he were the artist, not Arthur, so that he could capture it.

“Come for drinks with me. Before dinner, in the bar,” he added impulsively, realising that he wanted to spend every single moment he could with this man, even if those moments might only exist as a blip in time.

Arthur’s eyes met his and his lips quirked. “Yes, all right then. I shall. I will see you later, Mr Emrys.”

“Mr Beauchamp,” Merlin said, and with a wink he tipped his hat at Arthur and escaped back to his cabin. 

 

*

 

Merlin sat down on the bed with a sigh and ran a shaky hand through his hair. Damn Sophie and her insistence on this charade. He wished she were less concerned about the opinions of their church and community and more concerned about the unhappiness they were causing to their little family. Then he would be able to meet Arthur tonight at peace with his conscience, rather than feeling this terrible guilt that ate away at him, everytime he let his thoughts stray back to the man who had captivated him so completely.

Merlin had known from the moment he first set eyes on Arthur—or Andre Beauchamp, as he had thought him then—that he loved him. When their eyes met, that had just confirmed it. He had tried to shield himself from Arthur’s brilliance with his wife and child, convinced that as long as he brandished them like a shield, Arthur would not want to bother with him, rendering his own feelings baseless. And yet, the attraction, which had been so instantaneous, had also been strong, and Merlin had spent the whole day fighting against it. He could tell that Arthur had felt the pull of it too, which made their rendezvous tonight all the more dangerous. Merlin sighed as his knotted his tie and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He knew that he shouldn’t be thinking this way. He shouldn’t be letting his heart rule his head, but he had always been a bit heedless and impulsive when it came to matters of the heart. And he knew that there was no way that this could turn out to be anything more than a fling that would end up breaking his heart, but he still couldn’t seem to stop himself from considering it.

Once Merlin was dressed for dinner, he made his way to the bar to wait for Arthur, determined that tonight he would enjoy himself and the company he kept. He might not be able to give Arthur much, but he could give him this. He could give Arthur his whole self, if for one night only. 

He spotted Arthur at once when he appeared in the doorway, and Merlin felt his breath catch in his throat. He had thought Arthur handsome and charming in his day clothes, but that had done nothing to prepare him for the sight of Arthur in a dinner suit. Perfectly cut from the finest cloth, the white jacket paired with a bow-tie and deep-red cummerbund suited him perfectly, as if he were made to wear them always. The way his dinner jacket hugged his broad shoulders and showed off his slim, taut waist—swathed in that crimson silk, as if he were a gift for Merlin to unwrap—was delicious. He paused in the doorway, one hand in his trouser pocket, the other brandishing a cigarette, as he casually scanned the room, searching for Merlin. And because Merlin was not a saint—far from it; he had many thoughts and needs that were considered sinful—he took the opportunity given to him and let his eyes travel the length of Arthur’s body, taking great pleasure in what he saw. Arthur spotted him and immediately relaxed, smiling knowingly at Merlin and he made his way towards him.

“Arthur,” Merlin greeted with a twinkle, delighting in the way the tension had seemed to melt from Arthur’s shoulders as soon as he had noticed him. “Come, let me introduce you to my friends…”

Merlin turned and beckoned Arthur towards Gwen and Lancelot. “Lancelot, Gwen,” he said, with a nod of his head as he slid his arm gently across Arthur’s back. In any other circumstance, it would merely seem to be a friendly gesture, but really it served as a reason for Merlin to touch Arthur again. “I would like to introduce you to my friend, Mr Andre Beauchamp. Mr Beauchamp, may I present Mr and Mrs du Lac, two of my dearest friends.”

Lancelot smiled and held out his hand to Arthur, who seemed a little dazed. Merlin wondered if perhaps it was too much, too soon, and he ought not to have started introducing Arthur to the rest of his friends on the ship. But Arthur soon seemed to rally himself as he clasped Lancelot’s hand, pumping it eagerly and smiling back at him.

“Lancelot, a pleasure to meet you,” Lancelot said cordially. “And this is my wife—”

“—Guinevere, who is perfectly able to speak for herself, thank you very much,” she interrupted as she also took Arthur’s hand. “Mr Beauchamp. It is very good to meet you. I hope you’re enjoying your time on the ship. Have you and Merlin known each other long?”

Arthur looked momentarily flustered, but recovered well. “We met just this morning, actually. I had the good fortune of sharing Merlin’s boat to the shore, and then we spent the day together. I certainly feel like this cruise has been just what the doctor ordered.”

Gwen smiled at him. “Come and sit with us for dinner. Both of you,” she said, tugging on Merlin’s arm and leading him towards the restaurant. “I want to hear more about your day.”

Once their starters had been cleared from the table and Lancelot and Arthur were engaged in a heated conversation about cricket, Merlin found himself shifting uneasily under Gwen’s piercing gaze. 

“What?” he asked. “Have I something on my face?”

“You’re happy,” said Gwen in a low voice.

Merlin frowned at her. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying,” he said uncomfortably.

“I’ve never seen you actually happy before,” Gwen said. “So this is why you put off meeting with my friend George, hmm?”

Merlin tilted his chin haughtily. “Despite what you might think, you don’t know everything, Gwen,” he said with a satisfied smile. “No, what I told Lancelot was true. I hadn’t so much as seen Ar–Andre before today.”

Gwen looked surprised, but was soon on the warpath again. “So you do like him, then?”

Merlin flicked his eyes towards Arthur, and he couldn’t help the smile that slipped onto his face. “I do.”

Gwen grinned at him. “I’m glad. You deserve some happiness in your life, Merlin. You should go for it. I can see he likes you too.”

“But I—”

“No. No buts. Well, not of that kind, anyway,” she said saucily. “Seriously, Merlin, you should do something for you. I like seeing you happy.”

After dinner had concluded, Merlin chatted with other passengers in the lounge, but his thoughts were on Arthur. He caught sight of him outside on deck, just beyond the entrance to the lounge, and as he watched, he saw Arthur press his hand to his head, as though he might be ill. Concerned for him, Merlin excused himself from his conversation and slipped out of the lounge to where Arthur was leaning over the edge of the ship, watching the waves as they eddied and danced around the bow. As he approached, he could see that Arthur had been alerted to his presence in the way his back started to tense.

“Arthur, are you all right?” Merlin reached to place a gentle hand to Arthur’s back, and Arthur turned around, glaring accusingly at him. The wind teased at his hair, which gleamed with light reflected from the lounge.

“You keep introducing me as Andre Beauchamp. Why would you do that? Are you making fun of me?”

“No! No, Arthur. You told me your name but I didn’t know if you wanted it to be common knowledge,” Merlin explained. “It was not for me to say. Besides,” he continued with a sly grin, “I rather liked that we had a secret between us.” More than one, Merlin wanted to add.

Arthur started to speak falteringly. “I brought something for you, but it’s –” His eyes met Merlin’s with a searching look, and he surveyed the people in the lounge behind them nervously. As he leaned closer, Merlin could see the fear and the lights from the ship reflected back at him in Arthur’s eyes. “Would you come to my cabin? Just for a drink. I’ve a rather fine bottle of scotch –“

Merlin felt a bubble of uneasy laughter escape from his lips, equal parts nerves at what Arthur was suggesting and joy that he was suggesting it at all. “A glass of scotch sounds perfect about now.”

Arthur took charge from there, which pleased Merlin no end. Without further ado, he ducked into a nearby doorway and Merlin followed him along the deck, up some stairs and along several brightly lit corridors until they reached his cabin. Merlin’s heart was beating quicker and his breath came more rapidly, for reasons that were not entirely to do with the exertion of walking the length of the ship. He inhaled sharply at the jolt of want that swelled within him when Arthur placed his hand at the small of his back, the heat of it burning through the layers of his clothing as he hurried Merlin inside his room. 

“I’ll just get some glasses,” Arthur said, crossing the cabin. As though that were anything close to what either of them were thinking or wanting.

“Arthur,” Merlin said, his voice strained with desire, desperate to shed their pretense now that they were finally alone and in private. “Forget the damn scotch.”

He crossed to Arthur’s side in two short strides and pulled him flush against his body, desperate not to let a single speck of air seperate them. He needed Arthur, needed to feel him; to taste him. He could not restrain himself a moment longer. Arthur’s choke of surprise and the way he clung to Merlin in return gave him a thrill, his heart racing faster still. And then he felt Arthur’s face against his neck, his breath hot and teasing before warm, soft lips kissed him there. Merlin slid his hands under Arthur’s dinner jacket and ran them down the muscled curvature of his back, the skin warm beneath his fingertips, before drifting lower over cummerbund and trousers to gently fondle Arthur’s arse. Arthur startled and stumbled slightly.

“Easy, love,” Merlin said. “Easy.” The words fell from his lips so naturally as though they had been made to say them, and he was not sure who he intended to reassure—himself, or Arthur.

Merlin closed his eyes as a huge wave of emotions overwhelmed him. He had never felt this way about anyone. Such happiness, so much love, and such contentment. He sighed and held Arthur close, reluctant to ever let him go when it felt so good and so _right_. Eventually, however, he pulled back and looked at Arthur, using his hand to tilt his chin up, admiring the perfection of his jawline. He let his fingers slide along it in a sweet caress. “Oh, Arthur,” he said, his voice thick with lust. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

“I do,” Arthur replied, his voice quiet but filled with unspoken desire. “Merlin, I do, because you’re doing it to me, too.”

Merlin gasped as Arthur lurched forward, pressing his lips against Merlin’s in an unexpected kiss. Arthur’s kiss was sweet and uncertain, which left Merlin wondering if it might be his first. Certainly, it was likely the first time that he had kissed a man. The thought that Arthur was trusting Merlin with something so precious, warmed his heart, and he let Arthur lead the kiss as they gently explored each others lips. When Arthur opened to him, however, Merlin could no longer hold back. He licked into Arthur’s hot, wet mouth with relish, learning the very shape of him. Arthur’s tongue was smooth like velvet as it twined and slid along Merlin’s. His arousal stirred and pressed insistently against Arthur’s thigh, and Merlin was jolted from the moment when he felt Arthur’s answering excitation brushing against his. God, he had almost let himself go too far.

With regret, Merlin managed to pry himself away, even as Arthur whimpered with disappointment and tried to pull Merlin back to him.

“No, Arthur, please. I can’t. I shouldn’t,” said Merlin, collapsing onto the sofa and sliding his fingers into his hair. God, he wanted this. He wanted it so badly that it scared him. But he was not sure he could have Arthur for just one night, when he wanted so much more. He wanted him forever. 

He heard the scuffling of feet and then the sound of bed springs giving beneath Arthur’s weight as he sat down across from him. “Because you’re married?” Arthur asked tentatively.

Merlin gripped at his hair as he fought to calm himself and order his thoughts, trying to decide the best way in which to explain things to Arthur. How could he explain the situation in a way that someone so good and less life-weary could understand? He needed Arthur to realise that even though Merlin was married, it was not the way that it seemed. That Merlin was not a cad or a scoundrel who took pleasure in disgracing his vows of marriage, but rather an bird trapped in a cage, rarely given the freedom to stretch his wings as nature intended.

Finally, Merlin broke the heavy silence that sat between them, shaking a little as he started to speak. “I was young when I married Sophie,” he began, pinching the skin on the back of his hand to help centre himself. “I was trying to fit in, to pretend I could have a normal life. It wasn’t long before I realised I’d made a terrible mistake.” Such a very terrible mistake. But Merlin had been so scared for himself and what it would mean if people had found out about his preferences. Yet again, Merlin wished he could go back in time and change his decision. For Arthur, he would go back in an instant and never have married her. Except then Drey would never have existed, and as it always does, the thought of never having had him in his life makes Merlin feel as heartsick as marrying Sophie in the first place.

As he shrugged his shoulders, he could feel the tears start to prickle behind his eyes, threatening to fall. Arthur came over to him at once, taking up Merlin’s hand in his, and Merlin squeezed his fingers, thanking him for his comfort as he tried to put his impossible situation into words. He swallowed back the tears and emotion. “I tried to end it, to leave her, but Sophie’s a good Catholic. She told me I could have _liaisons_ , as long as I gave her a child and remained married to her she wouldn’t tell anyone about my … preferences. When Mordred was born, I thought my duty done, but –” he paused and tried to compose himself. Arthur was still watching him with rapt attention. “She still wants me to be a husband and now she blames Mordred for me having no interest in her.” Merlin bit his lip to stop himself from speaking his anger freely. “He’s suffering and is becoming so introverted and silent. I’ve been with a few men since we were married – brief meetings. There’s been no one I’ve really wanted beyond a night or two. But you…” Oh yes, Arthur. Dear, wonderful, beautiful Arthur… Merlin shook his head hopelessly. How on earth did one confess to loving someone at first sight? He supposed one should just simply say it. “Arthur, the moment I saw you –“

Arthur just stared at him, the astonishment on his face clear to see. “Me?” he asked. “Why would you want me? I’m ugly –“

At that, it was Merlin’s turn to express his disbelief. How could Arthur possibly think himself ugly, when Merlin could not think of a time when he’d met a more handsome man? Especially when compared to himself. Tall and gangly, with ears only a mother could love, Merlin knew he was no oil painting. The fact that this Adonis of a man was even looking at him, much less desiring him... and he thought himself ugly! “Ugly? Arthur, why on earth would you think such a thing? You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t believe that you’d even look at me.”

Arthur sighed. “I want to show you something.” He turned from Merlin and went over to his bedside table, returning with a photograph. His hands shook as he pushed it into Merlin’s waiting grasp. “That’s my family,” he said.

Merlin frowned as he examined it, looking at the people. He pointed at the stern-looking man with greying hair. “That’s your father.” 

With a confirming nod, Arthur bent a little to point out the two women in the picture. One was fair and the other dark, as if one were the photograph and the other the negative. “My sisters,” Arthur said, and then moved his fingers to two formidable, but not unattractive men who were standing with a younger blond-haired boy next to the women. The boy’s face was similar to Arthur’s, but it was certainly not him. “Their husbands and son.” Then Arthur stood back and waited as if he expected Merlin to ask him a question. 

Merlin assumed Arthur must be wanting him to ask about the as-yet-unnamed gentleman at the back of the picture. Certainly a bit older than Arthur, he was rather rotunde and frumpily dressed. That along with the slumped shoulders and the frown on his face certainly did nothing to help his appearance, but he did seem to at least sport the same shade of blond hair as Arthur, so Merlin assumed him to be a relation. 

He pointed him out and then asked, “Who’s this unhappy gentleman? Your uncle?”

There was an awkward silence in the room, and Merlin glanced up at Arthur, wondering whether he might have misstepped. Perhaps he should have spoken more considerately about the uncle. Perhaps the man was one of Arthur’s favourite relatives. Perhaps he had since passed. Merlin wished he had phrased the question differently, and an apology was on the tip of his tongue when Arthur broke the silence for him.

“No,” said Arthur, his voice quiet and small. “That’s me.”

Merlin glanced up at Arthur sharply and then looked back at the picture. Surely Arthur was pulling his leg. He looked back at him again. “No – surely not?”

Arthur perched on the edge of the sofa, twisting his hands in his lap. “I was ill you see. I went to – to a sanatorium. I… It’s …” In his nervousness, Arthur started to stumble over his words.

Merlin longed to comfort him, to let Arthur know it was all fine, that it did not matter to him. He pulled Arthur close and held him in his arms as he shushed him, rubbing his hands soothingly up and down Arthur’s back until he felt Arthur become calmer and start to relax into his arms.

“Come on,” he said, pulling Arthur to his feet and leading him over to the bed. “Let’s get comfortable and we can talk.” Merlin tugged his dinner jacket off and slipped off his shoes. “Your turn,” he urged Arthur. 

Biting his lip, Arthur complied, and Merlin watched the way Arthur’s shoulders rippled and flexed under his shirt as he worked off his jacket. Once Arthur’s shoes were finally discarded, he went to lay on the bed next to Merlin. Merlin smiled at him fondly as he pulled him into his arms. “It’s okay,” Merlin reassured him. “You can tell me.” He placed a gentle kiss on Arthur’s forehead, and Arthur stared up at him as though he had hung the stars in the sky. It made Merlin’s heart soar.

Finally, Arthur began to speak in a hushed, reserved voice.

“My father, he never really allowed me much of a childhood. He’s always been so strict and terse with me. I thought it normal, to kowtow to your parents, but he was never so harsh with my sisters. I think it is because he wished to punish me, for killing my mother and taking him from her. He never let me make my own choices about anything, everything had to be controlled by him. It was suffocating. My sister, Morgana, she was the one who convinced him in the end. She arranged for me to go to the sanatorium. For my health, she told him. But oh, it was so much more than that Merlin. It gave me a life, a reason for existing again. Dr Harcourt, who runs the place, he helped me more than I can say. He made me realise that in order to be happy I needed to change, and so, over time, I did.”

Holding Arthur close, Merlin marveled at what an incredible man Arthur was. Having suffered through so much at his father’s hand, he had still found the resolve and strength of character to rebuild himself again, as he was intended to be. 

“You are amazing, Arthur,” he said, when Arthur came to the end of his tale. “To go through all that and still to be so strong.” As he looked down at Arthur’s fair head, he was hit with an overwhelming burst of love and affection. Unable to help himself, he cupped Arthur’s face and angled it upwards so that he could press his lips softly to Arthur’s own. Arthur answered him instantly, swallowing up his kiss and deepening it within seconds. A moan was ripped from deep in Merlin’s chest, where his deepest feelings, thoughts and desires threatened to erupt from him. He pressed closer to Arthur, who was solid and warm beneath him as Merlin’s body jerked in an uncontrollable spasm. As Arthur thrust back against him, Merlin gasped into his mouth and wrenched himself away, struggling to gain control against the lust that flowed through him like molten lava. He removed himself from Arthur’s reach, sitting gingerly on the end of the bed, and tugged at his hair. What was he doing? He was desperate to show Arthur how much he wanted him, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t fair to Arthur. It wasn’t fair to either of them.

He heard Arthur shift next to him. 

“Merlin, please, I want –“

Merlin cut him off. “I know, Arthur. I do, too, but it’s not fair to you and – I’m leaving the ship tomorrow at Porto Madryn. How can I -?”

 _How can I leave you? How can I make love to you and leave you behind as though you don’t matter to me? I can’t, I can’t. I won’t. I want more. So much_ more _.’_ Merlin looked over at Arthur, sure that he must look as distraught as he felt, and tears threatened to gather in his eyes as he swallowed around the lump of emotions in his throat. He was leaving the ship tomorrow. There was no time. He wanted to offer Arthur a proper relationship, not a sordid one night stand. He wanted to offer Arthur the world. But the reality was that he had so very little to give, not compared to how much Arthur deserved. It simply was not enough. One night was not enough.

Merlin sat there in silence for a long time, warring with his conflicting emotions. He felt Arthur’s questing fingers brush gently against his thigh, and with a trembling hand, he linked their fingers together, letting out a deep sigh. He had to move on, let Arthur go free; it was what was best for the both of them.

Merlin cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders, trying to push away his feelings. “How about that scotch, then?”

Arthur’s hand gripped his tightly, and Merlin could hear the way his breath caught in his throat before he replied. “Of course.”

Arthur rose and poured them both a generous measure of scotch, while Merlin made sure to re-settle himself on the opposite side of the cabin, trying to put as much physical distance between himself and Arthur as he could, given their surroundings.

Arthur looked disappointed when he turned around, his face falling for a moment before he passed Merlin his glass and sat down on the bed. He lifted his head and hesitantly opened his mouth to speak, but Merlin hastened to interrupt him.

“Come with me tomorrow ” He blurted out. “When I leave for Y Gaiman, I mean. I would like the pleasure of your company for one more day, if I may?” No doubt they could easily arrange for a car to return him to the ship before—before Arthur had to leave his life forever. Even if they couldn’t have the intimacy they both so craved tonight, at least they could have tomorrow.

Arthur readily agreed to accompany him, and Merlin nodded to himself. Yes, they could do this. This way they would be able to spend their final few hours together somewhere safe, where he could still enjoy Arthur’s company but would not be in danger of succumbing to his baser instincts. “Good. That’s –” He looked up at Arthur, and the heat and devotion in his gaze cut Merlin off in his tracks. As Merlin stared back at him, it was as though they were telling each other all their hearts’ desires. “That’s good,” Merlin finished lamely. He cleared his throat, taking a shuddering breath as he tried to calm his racing heart. Somehow, he found himself unable to think of what to say next, and Arthur certainly wasn’t helping, watching him quietly with lust-darkened eyes. Finally, Merlin forced himself to speak, reverting back to one of his favourite topics: architecture. 

“Y Gaiman has some lovely buildings,” he began. “I would like to show you them. The first settlement there used some very interesting building methods—all traditionally Welsh, but with Argentinian materials, of course. I am interested to see how well they work together. And the school the Welsh settlers built—I hear that it’s quite beautiful. I would love to have had the opportunity to design something like that.” Merlin smiled at the thought. It was all too easy to envision himself with a different sort of life, a life where he got to look at and create, beauty every day, just as tomorrow, with Arthur by his side, he would be able to indulge himself in a feast for the eyes and ease his aching heart.

“I’m sure you could. As I said before, anyone can draw given enough time and patience. Why don’t you give it a try?”

Merlin shook his head. “No, I can’t. I wanted to, before I married Sophie. I had even begun looking at courses, sent out a few applications for apprenticeships and the like. But once we were married she put her foot down and told me that I needed to provide for her. You see, the apprenticeships are all unpaid, and I thought that we might be able to live—not lavishly, but well enough—on the savings I had until I gained paid employment. But Sophie insisted,” Merlin paused and licked his lips, remembering the moment that he had realised that Sophie was serious and was not going to change her mind in the slightest. At the time he had ended up chalking it up to yet another thing he would need to sacrifice in order to appear normal, but now he felt the self-betrayal all the more keenly. “So I took up a paying job selling insurance, and I am good at it. But it’s just so soulless. And ruthless too. Such a cut-throat profession. But I suppose I cannot complain too much. The income is steady. We live comfortable lives, in a nice house in a good neighbourhood. And it allows me to travel.”

“But it doesn’t make you happy,” said Arthur gently, both a statement and a question in one. 

Merlin glanced over at Arthur, but seeing those eyes looking back at him, so full of sympathy and pity, he had to look away. “No, it doesn’t.”

At that point, Merlin stood to leave. He might be trapped in a wretched, loveless marriage, but he still had his pride and he could not bear for Arthur to pity him for his own follies. He gathered his shoes and jacket, slipping them on. 

“I should be going, Arthur,” he said, glad that had managed to keep his voice even and steady, without being unnecessarily cold. “It’s getting late.”

“Yes, of course,” agreed Arthur, getting to his feet. They stood near the cabin door, and though Merlin held onto the handle, he could not bring himself to open it. He and Arthur stared at each other, neither of them speaking, as though both were afraid to break the moment and face what was waiting for them in the harsh reality of life outside of Arthur’s room.

At last, Merlin finally dragged himself away, and with a smart nod, he twisted the handle to open the door. He froze mid-action when Arthur called him back.

“I did this for you. It’s silly, I know.” Arthur came closer and passed him a small picture that he had painted with the watercolours Merlin had given him. Merlin’s eyes scanned the page as he took it in. Arthur had painted a picture of a wizard’s staff, to go with his stick figure drawing. “I don’t know why – you’ll –“

“Arthur, this is lovely. It’s just how I imagined it. Thank you. I will keep it with me.” Merlin paused to clear his throat, his voice a little husky as he carried on. “A reminder of you.”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Arthur’s in a slow, delicate caress, both closing their eyes as they lost themselves to it. “I’ll see you later,” Merlin whispered as he pulled back. He stroked Arthur’s face lightly. He was loath to leave, but he had to. His touch lingered for a moment, before he slipped out the door and made his way back to his own cabin at the other end of the ship.

 

**

 

Merlin was pacing. 

He had been awake since the first light of dawn had begun to peek through the curtains, but his slumber had not been restful. His thoughts had been filled with Arthur, and the fact that, beyond this day, they would never see each other again. Merlin would go on to spend what would undoubtedly be an enjoyable week in the warm sun, admiring the local landscape as he got to know his cousin and deal with the business that Kanen had entrusted to him, but Arthur would not be there. Instead, he would carry on with the cruise and then return to his life, far from anything Merlin had ever known. 

Merlin would have dearly loved to see Arthur in his natural environment. He knew simply from the way Arthur had spoken yesterday that he was a changed man, inside and out, after his treatment with Dr Harcourt, and his newfound confidence continued to grow daily. Merlin was so proud of him. He knew that Arthur would never allow himself to be bullied, domineered or pushed around ever again.

He sighed and ran a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. When the time came, he would have to let Arthur go. And he would. He would. And gladly. Arthur deserved someone who would devote themselves to him and love him with all their heart. Still, Merlin had one last day with Arthur before that happened, and he was determined to enjoy it to the fullest. 

With that settled, Merlin set about packing his belongings. Normally, this was a simple job that did not take him too long, but today he found himself lingering, reluctant to finish a task that would bring him one step closer to losing Arthur forever. He heaved a deep sigh as he placed his last shirt into his case and smoothed out a few errant wrinkles with his hand. It could be worse, he reasoned. He could have never met Arthur in the first place. He could have never even known that Arthur existed, but somehow knowing how lucky they were to have met each other hurt Merlin even more. Finally, once the packing was done and he had nothing else to dither over, he dressed and readied himself for breakfast, double-checking his belongings one last time and securing his luggage, ready for when he disembarked the ship that morning.

 

**

 

“Arthur,” Merlin said quietly, unable to hold back a smile as the two of them met at the door to the dining room.

“Merlin!” exclaimed Arthur in return, pumping Merlin’s hand merrily. “Good to see you on such a pleasant morning.”

Arthur gestured for Merlin to enter ahead of him, and as he walked past, Arthur’s hand touched him ever so lightly on the small of his back, ushering him inside. They settled down at the table to have breakfast with Miss Lisa and Miss Charlotte, who had now become good friends. Usually, Merlin loved breakfast. He enjoyed spending time in the company of the other travellers, hearing all about their adventures and revelling in all the interesting stories people had to tell, and the food served on board was always exquisite. But today the conversation failed to hold his interest, even though the sisters were telling Arthur all about their river cruise through Egypt and the strange, dark tombs buried in the Valley of the Kings. Normally, Merlin would have spent the morning eagerly asking them more questions to feed his architectural obsession. But today he remained silent, pushing his eggs and smoked kippers around on his plate. Even though they were his favourites, Merlin found himself unable to face them, distracted as he was by the prospect of one last day with Arthur. 

Having decided that he had tortured his poor kippers for long enough, Merlin excused himself to ensure that his luggage would be be sent on to the right location, before returning back to the table. When he returned, he watched on with a great deal of pleasure and pride as Arthur regaled Miss Lisa, who was sat next to him, with a story which had her laughing along joyously. Merlin could not help but contrast the man he saw in front of him with the grumpy, sour-looking gentleman in the picture Arthur had shown him the night before. It was so terribly difficult for him to reconcile two so vastly different men in his head and recognise them as the one and the same. Arthur looked so happy and content; a confident young man ready to take on the world. Arthur glanced up as he felt Merlin’s gaze, his cheeks colouring in a becoming way as he returned Merlin’s smile.

A short while later, sitting out on the deck to drink tea after their breakfast, Merlin arched an eyebrow as he overheard Gwen speaking earnestly about him with Arthur. She had come to join them at the table a short while ago, and was now disparaging him with good humour, telling Arthur how Merlin would no doubt bore him silly with his excited chatter about the buildings and make him miss the sailing of the ship altogether.

Merlin summoned his best shocked expression as he rushed in to defend himself. “Gwen,” he scolded. “The purser has organised a car and a driver. I’m sure he’s quite sure when the boat sails tonight.”

“Mr Kilgharrah is a force to be reckoned with, that’s for certain,” said Arthur with a grin, as he looked at Merlin and nodded up towards the balcony. Merlin glanced at the upper deck where Kilgharrah was looking directly at them. When he realised Merlin had spotted him, the old man responded with a knowing smirk and a wink. Merlin guessed that the wily old bastard had likely figured them out. He just hoped that they could trust him with their secret. Kilgharrah looked to be enjoying himself far too much as he turned his gaze from Merlin to Arthur, giving the latter a mocking salute before he strolled away, his shoulders hunching with laughter. 

Before Merlin knew it, they had been thrown into the general chaos that always accompanied the rush to board the tender for an excursion. Merlin grasped Arthur’s elbow as they made their way through the crowd, and felt his heart clench as the gesture made Arthur smile at him. They walked together, avoiding the worst of the pushing and shoving until they were making their way down the gangway, Merlin holding Arthur’s arm all the while, his other hand holding onto his hat that was threatening to be stolen by an errant wind. Once everyone was safely on board, the two crewmen unhitched the boat from the ship and shoved off, setting course for the coast in the distance.

Upon safely disembarking at the shore, Merlin and Arthur joined the rest of the group for coffee at one of the seafront cafes. Merlin and Arthur sat together, both watching the sea as the waves lapped against the harbour wall in a steady, rhythmic pattern that was as soothing as it was mesmerising. As they sipped their coffee, Merlin felt Arthur shift forward to press his leg firmly against his own, his face unchanging as he continued speaking to Mr and Mrs Humphries—a well-to-do couple who were regulars in the social circles in the London elite. Arthur, the little minx, rubbed his leg up and down against Merlin all through the conversation, and though it delighted him—his blood coursing to places it really shouldn’t—Merlin had to pull himself away lest their flirting get out of hand. It was all very well to flirt with words and looks when they were alone together, but it was something else entirely for them both to be intimate with each other in such a public setting. As it was, it took Merlin until they were ready to find their driver to calm himself enough to be decent.

The driver did not speak a lick of English, and between the two of them they spoke no Spanish, but they were a merry party as they set off on their day trip. Merlin was excited to be able to show Arthur much of the interesting architecture he had talked to him about last night, and he knew that Arthur would appreciate the beauty that surrounded them, given his artistic eye. As the day drew on and the car journeyed onwards, however, it started to become apparent that their driver was lost.

“Perhaps we should turn around,” suggested Arthur, looking at his wristwatch anxiously. 

Merlin agreed, and tapped the driver on the shoulder to get his attention. He startled and turned around to talk to Merlin, causing the vehicle to swing out precariously into the road.

“Watch the road,” both Merlin and Arthur yelled as one.

The driver nodded at them, but made no move to correct the course of the vehicle, and Merlin realised that he hadn’t understood their request at all. He mimed to the driver as best he could that they wanted him to turn around to go back from where they had come from. A look of realisation dawned on the man’s face and he swung the steering wheel around with great gusto, ricocheting Merlin from side to side and rattling him against Arthur. The car made an ominous noise as they careened backwards, running off the road and starting to race down the mountain’s incline.

It was sometime before they finally came to a stop, wherein Merlin found himself inelegantly slumped over Arthur’s lap. If they had been in any other environment, Merlin would have enjoyed this position immensely. It was the most intimate they had been yet, and though Merlin yearned for it, he hurried to disentangle himself, for this was certainly neither the time nor the place.

Judging from Merlin’s own inspection and the driver’s near hysterics, it was clear that they were stranded on the rocky hillside, at least until they could be retrieved by another vehicle. After a brief conversation, the driver headed off down the hillside. Merlin hoped he had understood what the man was saying. He seemed to be indicating that he would go and fetch help, but could just have easily have abandoned them, for all Merlin knew. He and Arthur settled down for a long wait, and as he turned his gaze upwards, the sun was dipping in the sky and Merlin could tell from the diminishing light that very soon would be sunset, with dusk fast on it’s heels leaving them in cold and darkness. He bit his lip and cast his eyes around anxiously, wondering if there was anything on the barren hillside that they could use as cover. It would likely be cold out there at night, and neither of them we appropriately attired for sleeping under the stars. Arthur seemed to be having the same thoughts as they stood together wondering what to do next.

Then a thought struck Merlin. “You’ll miss the sailing. I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t you dare apologise,” Arthur replied, his pointed tone hinting at an underlying hurt that Merlin might be sorry to be stranded with him. “This is the first adventure I’ve ever had in my life. And I get to share it with you.”

Merlin smiled around a sudden lump in his throat. Arthur seemed to keep having that effect on him. 

“Then I’m glad,” he said, attempting to speak matter-of-factly. “In fact, there—uh, there’s no one I’d rather be stranded on a hillside with in the middle of nowhere with.”

Arthur laughed and clapped him on the back, the moment broken, and then they went to search around the crash site for firewood and other useful items. Merlin proudly exclaimed his delight when he located the picnic, complete with an unbroken bottle of wine. Arthur surprised him completely when he managed to remove the backseat of the car to use as a comfortable sofa for their fireside dining. Together they built a fire and sat down to eat.

The night was dark around them, and their faces were illuminated only by the fire that licked it’s way up the wood, tendrils of flame that flickered and danced around it. Merlin felt sated and happy as he traced hidden pictures in the flames, a smile ghosting his lips every time Arthur’s shoulder brushed against his. If only he could freeze his life at this moment, he thought he would be able to die happy. As they shared the rapidly diminishing bottle of wine between them, he felt Arthur slide an arm around his shoulders, and Merlin relaxed against him with a contented sigh. Arthur was so warm and cosy and safe. Combined with effects of the wine and the heat of the fire, Merlin felt comfortable enough to let his guard down and wrapped an arm around Arthur’s waist. He rested his head in the nook between Arthur’s shoulder and neck and barely registered the brush of lips against his temple as he drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

 

**

 

The next morning, Merlin awoke pressed up against Arthur and drooling slightly on his chest. He knew that he should get up; the sun was rising, and they were sure to be rescued soon. But he hadn’t been so blissfully relaxed in a long time, and he revelled in his closeness to Arthur, taking in his scent, which was a mixture of the musk from the previous day's excursion and the remains of his cologne. He enjoyed the feel of Arthur's body, solid and real beneath his. He stiffened as Arthur started to stir to wakefulness and hoped that his own morning excitation would not be obvious to him.

“Morning,” Arthur murmured. His voice was rough with disuse and a smile teased at the corner of his lips, though his eyes remained closed.

Merlin made to reply, but the sound of a motorcar trundling its way up the hillside in the distance made them both hasten to disentangle themselves, and they scrambled up off the seat in an attempt to make themselves look respectable. 

By the time their driver approached them with several other cars in tow, they were every bit as appropriate as they should be. The car seat, rugs and picnic were all safely stowed back in the abandoned vehicle, and without further ado, Merlin and Arthur were ushered into a new car by the driver’s associate, who apologised to them over and over in broken English. He pleaded for them to please take the car back down to Porto Madryn, and soon they were back on the road again. Merlin found himself somber and unable to enjoy the beauty of the countryside on that ride back to the port. He had not expected to feel as much as he did for Arthur, and he had never expected it to be so difficult to say goodbye. But now that it was fast approaching he thought it might be one of the most difficult things he’d had to face. How _did_ one say goodbye to the one you suspected to be the love of your life? Such a thing should never have to be imagined.

He did not say much during their drive and neither did Arthur. Their new driver kindly dropped them at the offices for the cruise company, and with much sympathy and apologies, the representative proceeded to explain Arthur’s options to him. Merlin watched him from a distance, aware that he was being sullen and childish, yet unable to help it. He desperately wanted Arthur to stay, even though he knew that the longer they remained together the harder it was going to be for him when they inevitably had to part ways. Perhaps he had someone who was watching over him, because despite doing his best to ignore the hushed tones of Arthur’s conversation, he overheard the proprietor explain to Arthur there were only two options: he could leave this very day and catch up to the cruise, or he could remain for a few days and then fly out to the final port. Merlin waited in tense silence to hear which option Arthur would take.

“I’ll stay,” said Arthur, glancing at Merlin.

Merlin quickly looked away, trying to pretend he hadn’t been listening, even as relief washed over him and felt himself relax. When they left the office in search of their hotel, Merlin’s heart fluttered as their fingers brushed against one anothers as they walked. 

 

**

 

“I cannot tell you how much it means, that Porto Madryn and Y Gaiman will have you for another four days,” said Merlin giddily across his teacup. “I feel it was loath to lose you just yet, so it captured you by means of its shoddy drivers and harsh landscape.”

Arthur bit his lip and reached out to him, linking their fingers beneath the tablecloth where no one could see. “Yes, how lucky they are indeed to experience the pleasure of my company for another few days. However, Y Gaiman should know, it needn’t have stranded me to get me to remain here. It merely needed to ask me.”

Merlin met Arthur’s gaze and they shared a secret smile. Merlin risked staring longingly at Arthur’s resplendent face, aware that time was fast-passing, and then they broke their gaze and parted touch as their server came over with a fresh plate of food.

When he had gone, Arthur cleared his throat and looked up at Merlin through lowered lashes. “I was wondering if you might consider joining me for a drink tonight, Mr Emrys,” he asked, his tone innocent enough, even though they both knew the real invitation that he was issuing.

“Of course, Mr Pendragon,” Merlin replied smoothly, secretly thrilling at being able to call Arthur properly by his given name for the first time, for he had given the name Pendragon at the hotel. Arthur beamed at him, and Merlin bit his lip, aware of the dangerous game that awaited them later that night.

 

**

 

When Merlin went to call on Arthur later that evening, he found his door unlocked and slipped inside without knocking, bolting the lock behind him. His eyes hungrily devoured the sight of Arthur out on the terrace, his strong, thick legs and perfect feet bare beneath his lightweight robe. He looked on with enjoyment for a while, knowing that Arthur—from the barely perceptible tension in his back—was aware of Merlin’s presence and was waiting for him to approach. Then Merlin padded over to the sideboard and poured them both a measure of scotch before letting himself out onto the terrace. Arthur smiled nervously at him, reaching for his glass, and Merlin let his fingers glide softly over the back of Arthur’s hand as he passed it to him. Arthur’s eyes sharpened, and Merlin felt his member beginning to stir. He cleared his throat and went to look at the view, sipping at his whisky as Arthur’s shoulder bumped against his.

“It’s your choice, you know, what happens now?” Arthur said.

Oh, Arthur. Precious, dearest Arthur. How Merlin wished he could make this choice for him and throw caution to the wind. But he knew it wasn’t fair. Arthur might think the choice Merlin’s, but it was his, too. All Merlin could do was express his own feelings, explain to him what very little he had to offer; the rest was up to Arthur. Merlin took a moment to lick his lips and smiled wistfully at Arthur as he answered him. “I know. And I know what I want to happen, but, Arthur, it’s not fair to you. I can only offer this time. There’s no future for us, you know that.”

Arthur, so strong and determined, set his jaw and looked deep into Merlin’s eyes. “Yes. I understand,” he said, looking at Merlin with such sweet devotion that he felt like they were the only two people on this earth. His voice was firm, yet so tender as he spoke. “I wouldn’t trade four days with you for a lifetime with anyone else. I want you, Merlin, want you to be my first, to show me what love is –“

And with that Merlin’s last ounce of resistance crumbled. Oh, this wonderful, wonderful man, whose heart and soul shone as bright as the sun. He kissed him suddenly, and as he pulled back, he could feel the tears brimming in his eyes. “Oh, my darling,” he whispered.

Arthur’s face crumpled, just for a moment, as though he were about to burst into tears but fighting against it fiercely. “No-one’s ever called me ‘darling’ before,” he confessed, with a shrug that did nothing to hide the slight tremble of emotion in his voice.

Oh, his sweet darling Arthur. How starved of love and affection his life must have been, to have never had anyone call him darling. Merlin leaned forward to seize another kiss from Arthur’s lips, desperate to let him know just how much he cared for him, that Arthur was all that he had ever wanted. And oh, how Merlin wanted. He wanted, he _wanted_.

Arthur pulled away from him, and Merlin was about to voice his protest when Arthur’s lips brushed against his ear. “Not here.” 

Arthur lead Merlin back into his room and pulled the heavy drapes across the window, closing the room off from the world, so that only Merlin and Arthur remained. 

They both reached for each other at the same time, drawing each other close in a tantalising kiss. Merlin couldn’t help but moan into it when Arthur’s fingers caressed his face, his body thrumming with pleasure when Arthur slid his tongue inside his mouth, dominating the kiss, making it his. Then just as quickly, he felt Arthur start to tremble, and his arms tightened around him. Oh no, was this too much, too fast? Merlin wanted this to be good, to be everything that Arthur desired it to be. He broke the kiss.

“It’s all right, Arthur, darling. We don’t need to do anything more. It’s all right to be nervous–”

“Shut up, idiot,” said Arthur, almost as though he was laughing at Merlin. “I’m not – it’s not – Just – I want you. I want you so much.” 

Merlin’s reply was stolen from him as Arthur dived back into the kiss, devouring Merlin’s mouth until Merlin was helpless to do anything other than enjoy it, panting and weak-kneed as he was. When he finally pulled away, Arthur’s lips were deliciously kiss-swollen and his hair a mess, and he was looking at Merlin with such love, trust and lust in his eyes that Merlin was breathless from more than just their kissing.

“I’m not afraid or nervous, Merlin. I could never be afraid with you.”

Merlin beamed at Arthur, his heart fit to bursting. He reached for Arthur’s hand and pulled him towards the bed, pulling Arthur down with him as he collapsed back onto it and drawing him close with the fabric of his robe.

“What do you want us to do?” asked Merlin.

“Anything, everything,” Arthur gasped as he pressed hot, wet kisses to Merlin’s throat. Merlin shifted to accommodate him, arching his neck. “I want you Merlin. I just want you. Please.”

Merlin groaned beneath him and pushed the robe off Arthur’s shoulders so that it fell down around his waist. His eyes traced the muscles of Arthur’s chest, and he reached up to smooth his hand over the bare skin, so warm and soft. “Beautiful,” he whispered.

Arthur’s cheeks coloured. “I think you’re rather overdressed for the occasion,” he said, and though he had cleared his throat, his voice was still low and husky. He tugged at Merlin’s tie, bringing him up for a kiss as he settled into Merlin’s lap, then pulled it undone and cast it away. “Let’s get these off for you.”

Merlin returned Arthur’s kisses eagerly, struggling out of his jacket while Arthur undid the buttons of his shirt. He pushed it off Merlin’s shoulders, then scratched his fingers along Merlin’s chest and stomach, causing Merlin to squirm and hiss out loud. God, Arthur was doing all the right things. The heavy weight of him in Merlin’s lap, the faint scent of his cologne as Merlin kissed Arthur’s neck, the exquisite little gasps and hitches of his breath, all combined to drive Merlin mad with desire. How could he have gotten so lucky? Life was cruel, to allow him such a thing only to take it all away so soon. 

As Arthur slid his hands into Merlin’s hair, tipping his head back, his eager tongue explored Merlin’s mouth and he let out a low moan. Merlin had to keep himself from bucking up against him, poised so tantalisingly over his arousal, lest he move too fast. He knew exactly what he wanted, but he also wanted this night to be all about Arthur. He wanted to do all the things Arthur wanted him to do. Merlin did not care if they penetrated one another, and he certainly did not expect it; it was enough to have this, to be skin-to-skin with Arthur so warm and real against him. Merlin couldn’t have dreamed up a more perfect specimen of the human race if he tried. Arthur was flawless in all his small imperfections, with his slightly crooked teeth, the pale scar on his stomach, and the small bump in that aquiline nose. How could Merlin ask for more?

“Arthur,” he said as they broke for air. He knew that this was Arthur’s first time, and the thought thrilled him so much that he almost felt guilty because of it. He needed to make this good for Arthur, and he would do his best to make sure of it, but it was so hard to hold himself back. “Tell me what I can do for you.”

Arthur just hummed in response and slid off of Merlin, who made a petulant noise at the loss of his weight. But his displeasure was soon forgotten as Arthur stood up and his robe slipped off of him completely, pooling around his feet, the scarlet a stark contrast against the white stone floor. Merlin stared at the sudden unveiling of Arthur’s body with unconcealed delight, beaming his whole-hearted approval as lust flooded straight to his groin and brought him to a painful hardness. There before him was his Arthur, and he was beautiful and perfect from head to toe. He took his time to examine him, drinking Arthur in. Arthur with his creamy-gold skin, as though he was just barely touched by the sun, his body perfectly sculpted. But not overly so—just the right amount. Magnificent.

Merlin looked at him in wonder and took Arthur’s hand in his. “Perfect, you are absolutely perfect,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to Arthur’s knuckles letting his desire reflect in his eyes. Arthur’s eyes sparkled with unshed, happy tears. He pulled Merlin up to standing next to him and kissed him gently as he unbuttoned Merlin’s trousers. Merlin kicked them off along with his shoes and socks, never breaking the kiss, and Arthur pulled him close, letting Merlin feel his obvious excitement. Merlin shivered. God, he had caused that reaction; Arthur was aroused by Merlin and the passion they were sharing. Merlin just had to have him.

Finally bare, Merlin turned and pushed Arthur down onto the bed so that he could explore every inch of him. This was so different than any of the other nights he’d shared with men. It was as though he was truly making love for the very first time.

“Merlin,” Arthur gasped desperately. “Oh, Merlin!”

“Yes, Arthur?” Merlin looked up from where he had been kissing Arthur’s neck and clavicle. “What do you want? Please, darling, tell me.”

Arthur looked up at Merlin with such tenderness and trust. “I want—I want to feel you, Merlin. I want you to take me.”

Merlin looked down at him with surprise. He had fully expected to be the one offering himself up. He was the one who had the experience for it, after all, and Arthur did not. But here he was, wanting it so badly and trusting Merlin to take care of him.

“Are you sure, Arthur? It might... I might—”

Arthur scowled at him. “I’m not a child, Merlin. I have thought about this. And I want it.” He linked his fingers with Merlin’s. “Please,” he whispered.

Merlin nodded and cast his eyes about the room, looking for something that would serve as lubrication. He grabbed the jar of pomade on Arthur’s nightstand, and Arthur raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him. 

“To ease the way,” he explained with a wink. “I’d rather not just use spit for your first time.”

Then he leaned forward and pressed Arthur into the mattress, pinning Arthur’s hands above his head with one hand and cradling his face with the other. “I love you,” he mouthed, not daring to say it out loud, but unable to resist mouthing it. As if as long as he did not give voice to his feelings, it did not count—even though he knew they both felt it. He rolled his body against Arthur’s and reveling in the hedonistic pleasure it brought them. As Arthur gasped into his mouth, Merlin pushed a thigh between his legs and Arthur let them fall apart readily.

“So pretty and so eager for me,” crooned Merlin, and he nudged his length alongside Arthur’s with a moan. He began to meander his way down Arthur’s body, exploring and worshipping every inch until Arthur was a writhing mess beneath him, his eyes blown wide and his perfectly coiffed hair in disarray.

With a particularly evil grin, Merlin kissed Arthur’s loins teasingly, being sure to avoid the straining member, which was every bit as perfect as his face.

“Merlin. Merlin—please!” Arthur begged. At last, Merlin slid his wet lips teasingly along Arthur’s arousal, causing him to cry out with sheer pleasure as he thrashed his head from side to side. Merlin fished around for the pomade on the bed beside him, and with his fingers slicked, he slid them down between Arthur’s legs and searched out the secret spot between them. Circling his fingers around Arthur’s hole, Merlin looked at him with a questioning eyebrow. 

“Yes, yes, you idiot. Just do it—please!”

Biting his lip, Merlin slowly pushed his finger deep inside Arthur. Stretched out before him, Arthur looked like he was gulping for air, his chest heaving as he stared up at the ceiling. The tension was clearly visible in his muscles even as he desperately tried to disguise his discomfort, screwing his eyes shut and biting down on his bottom lip.

“Hush, hush, my darling,” Merlin comforted, and he wrapped his free hand around Arthur’s length, bending down to suckle at the head with his mouth. 

Merlin recalled his very first time. It had been too fast and too much and his partner had not prepared him anywhere near well enough. He would not do that to Arthur. Yes, it was going to hurt. But Merlin was determined to make it as painless as he could, for he adored this man beneath him, and all the riches in all the world could not compare to the gift he was giving Merlin in this: his trust, his hopes, his whole self. 

“O-oh!” said Arthur, his back arching.

With a smile, Merlin laid himself down on the bed between Arthur’s legs. Just the sight of those thick, firm thighs had his own length throbbing with excitement. Lord above, this man was perfect, simply perfect. Merlin wanted him so badly. But he pushed his own needs from his mind and turned his focus to Arthur, determined to make sure that their love-making was more than special. He pushed in a second digit alongside the first, and then took the whole of Arthur’s length into his mouth as a distraction. Arthur twisted his fingers in the sheets and moaned as he voiced his pleasure at the addition, and Merlin continued to prepare him as he worked his length, dipping his head up and down, over and over.

When Arthur was finally loose and relaxed, Merlin climbed along his body and placed a kiss to Arthur’s lips. “Ready?” he asked. Arthur nodded his consent and Merlin lined himself up against his prepared hole. With his free hand, Merlin cupped Arthur’s face, smoothing his thumb over his cheek. “It will hurt, but I will try my best to make it good for you, darling. You must promise me you will tell me if it becomes too much.”

Arthur swallowed noisily and nodded at Merlin again. His hair was sticking to his sweat-dampened forehead and his eyes were wild and dark. “I will,” he said, his voice rough. 

“Turn over,” said Merlin, gripping Arthur’s hips. Arthur frowned up at him.

“But I want to see you,” he protested.

Merlin smiled at him and kissed him. “Then you shall,” he agreed. “I’m going to…” He lined himself up and slowly, ever so slowly, pushed forward, watching Arthur’s face carefully to gauge his discomfort. He had to fight against the urge to push himself in to the hilt and just thrust like an animal. No. He would take his time; he would take care of Arthur. He lifted Arthur’s hips up into his lap and slid further inside the heat deep in Arthur’s core, biting his lip against the effort it took to restrain himself.

“Oh God!” gasped Arthur, his eyes wide with panic. Merlin could feel his muscles tightening around him as Arthur’s body reacted to the strange pleasure-pain sensation of being penetrated, that feeling as though you are being split wide open that Merlin knew well. He stopped and rubbed his thumbs in round, soothing motions over Arthur’s hips.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, Arthur. Just relax. Relax for me, darling,” Merlin crooned at him. “Deep breaths. It will pass, I promise, just let go.” Arthur gnawed at his luscious, reddened lips and tilted his head back, allowing Merlin to press kisses to his exposed neck. “You are doing so, so well,” he whispered. He knew from past experiences just how much being sodomised could hurt, but also that it would soon become an exquisite battle where the pleasure would be victorious over the pain, in a way Merlin had never experienced in anything else.

He felt Arthur slowly start to relax against the intrusion and pulled himself away from his neck in order to lift Arthur’s legs over his shoulders. Then he continued his inward progression. His eyes locked with Arthur’s, watching as he gasped out little whines under his breath, until finally Merlin was all the way in.

“Nnngh,” Arthur moaned. “O–oh _G–God_!” He threw his head back and let out a huff, his hands gripping the sheets. “Are you…?”

“Yes, yes,” said Merlin, his voice warm as he smiled down at his lover. He was so proud of Arthur. “Are you okay?”

Arthur opened his eyes to look at him. “Y-yeah,” he said, trembling slightly. “I just—You’re inside me.”

He sounded as awestruck as Merlin was, lifting his head to try and see for himself where they were now so intimately connected. Merlin grinned and traced a finger lightly around his rim, delighting in the way Arthur shivered at his touch. “Yes, I am. Shall I move now? Are you ready for me?”

“Merlin,” said Arthur, warningly. “If you ask if I am okay, or if I am ready one more time, I swear I will not be responsible for my actions. I want this. Now move!”

Arthur jerked his body and clenched tighter around Merlin, and Merlin could not contain the groan that spilled from his lips as he closed his eyes and began to thrust, losing himself in Arthur’s body. After a few false starts, they found their rhythm, until they moved and rolled their bodies in symphony with one another.

“Arthur, Arthur,” Merlin moaned, the flames of desire that had been building at the base of his spine burning ever higher as they moved in a frenzy of passion.

Arthur keened his approval. “Yes—yes, oh _yes_ , like that,” he moaned. “Merlin, Merlin, please!”

With a nod, Merlin took Arthur’s straining shaft in hand and stroked him. He could feel his whole body lighting up, the sparks of lust that had been slowly building now swelling in his gut, leaving him breathless. And still he thrust into Arthur, bending him almost double as he drove into him again and again. His reserve had finally broken, and he took all that Arthur had offered him as he lost himself in the bliss of it.

“Arthur, Arthur,” Merlin groaned, searching out his lips for a sloppy, gasping kiss. “I—I—”

Arthur keened. He grasped Merlin’s arms, digging his fingers in as so hard it was bound to leave bruises. “Oh, God!” Arthur cried. “I’m going to—” With his back bowed and his head thrown back, the tendons in his neck straining, he spilled hot and wet between them.

Merlin knew his own release was imminent. He pushed in and in, and then stilled as a fiery explosion of passion and love overwhelmed him, his vision blurring as he spent himself inside Arthur. Breathless and weak, he collapsed in a sweaty, sticky, sated heap. 

As he slipped out Arthur, Merlin couldn’t help but reach between them, to touch where his seed trickled from him. 

Arthur chuckled. “Admiring your work?” he asked breathlessly, craning his neck in an attempt to see.

Merlin grinned at him and kissed Arthur’s chest. “Hush. You were—are—amazing, Arthur. So incredible.” He slid a finger into his mouth, sucking it clean as Arthur watched with with darkened eyes, then pressed a kiss to Arthur’s lips and slowly prised himself away. Arthur made a noise of protest. “I am just getting something to—” He gestured to the mess on Arthur’s chest. 

After a quick clean up, Merlin took Arthur into his arms and kissed him soundly. He wanted so desperately to say those three little words out loud. To tell Arthur how much he cared. But he could not. He dared not, lest he give Arthur false hope. It would be cruel to pretend when he was not free to love Arthur so. His mouthing the words earlier had been a momentary lapse in control, a slip-up in the throes of passion. Surely he could be forgiven that. But he could never give voice to his true feelings. If anyone found out about them, it would surely bring disaster, the consequences of discovery being too dire to even contemplate. Society was not kind to men of their persuasion.

He kissed the corner of Arthur’s lips, taking in the droop of his eyelids as Arthur snuggled into his chest. “We should get some sleep,” he said. Arthur made a noise of agreement, his eyes closing, and soon Merlin could feel his chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. 

But for Merlin, there were so many thoughts and feelings in his head that sleep was difficult to come by. When he finally felt the pull of exhaustion start to claim him, he told to himself sternly that he would throw away his self-doubts and worries about their imminent departure and focus on enjoying all that he could.

 

**

 

When Merlin awoke the next morning, it was early, with only the barest hint of sunlight showing around the edges of the thick drapes that they had drawn across the French doors. The two of them had shifted in the night, and Arthur was now behind him, his arm draped over Merlin’s side, holding him close whilst his face was pressed into Merlin’s hair. Merlin smiled contentedly. How he had missed this feeling. But as much as he wanted to stay—and he did want to, so very much—he could not lie here, safe and comfortable within Arthur’s warm embrace, for very much longer. It was too risky. What if they were discovered? He could not even comprehend the thought of it. He had to leave now, before the rest of the hotel rose for breakfast. Sophie might have agreed to turn a blind eye to his indiscretions—and oh, how it hurt his heart to even think of Arthur as such a thing, when he meant so much _more_ —but the rest of society would not be so lenient. They had had last night, and they had three more days and nights together. That would have to be enough. 

He felt Arthur starting to stir slightly as he inched towards the edge of the bed, mumbling something into Merlin’s shoulder.

“Morning to you, too,” Merlin said, turning to face him.

Arthur smiled, his eyes still closed. “Mmm, and it’s a good one. I’m glad you’re here, Merlin. I’d have thought last night a dream, but, well—”

Arthur’s cheeks flooded with colour as he shifted uncomfortably, and Merlin thought that it might be one of the most darling things he’d ever seen. He could not help but lean down in search of a kiss. “I could never have dreamed of such a splendid man as you, Arthur.”

“I’m glad that I met you.”

Merlin cupped Arthur’s face with his hand, his heart gladdened by Arthur’s smile. “As am I. My world is a brighter place for knowing that you live in it.” With a sigh, it was Arthur’s turn to kiss Merlin, and when he pulled away Merlin sat up properly, scrubbing a hand over his day-old stubble. “I ought to go. I don’t want to—” He took up Arthur’s hand in his and placed a kiss upon his knuckles. “—but we need to be careful, Arthur. No one can know about us.”

He watched through lowered lashes as Arthur’s face contorted through a variety of emotions, until he visibly swallowed. “I understand,” he said. “Even though I wish that we might shout our feelings from the rooftops.”

“As do I.” Pulling on his shirt and underwear, Merlin leaned over the bed to Arthur and kissed him again, fumbling with his buttons. He simply could not get enough of Arthur’s mouth, and he knew that if he gave himself over to it, he would grow drunk and stupid on Arthur’s kisses alone. 

Finally, he broke away.

“Will you meet me for breakfast?” he asked casually, stepping into his trousers.

“Of course,” replied Arthur. Merlin could feel his eyes raking over him as he finished dressing, and smiled. “I’ll look forward to it.”

With a pleased nod, Merlin made his way to the door, pausing with his hand on the lock to enjoy one last look at Arthur. Lying naked in his bed, with the sheets gathered in bunches around his hips, he looked like a Renaissance painting, or a noble king. A tingle of lust shot down Merlin spine as Arthur smirked back at him. 

“I’ll see you shortly,” Merlin promised, before he hastily opened the door and snuck back to his own room.

 

**

 

Upon returning to his hotel room, Merlin freshened up with a bath, regretfully washing off the traces of their love-making. He shaved and acquired a fresh change of clothes before heading down towards the restaurant. 

He beat Arthur there, as he had suspected he would. He had not been able to sleep once he returned to his room. Instead, he had written a letter to Drey, talking about his adventures in Y Gaiman, and penned a few missives to his associates in order to postpone the meetings he had arranged for the next few days, so that he could devote himself fully to being with Arthur. Three days was not a lifetime, but they would fill it with as many fond and delightful memories as they could, so that Merlin could feast on them for many years to come. 

To that end, instead of being seated, Merlin made his way to the reception desk, seeking out the concierge in order to beg a favour. With some persuading, the man agreed to post Mordred’s letter back to England for him, and deliver the messages to the relevant parties, though not without a handsome payment for his time.

Once done, Merlin returned to the restaurant, and he was just partaking in his first cup of tea for the day when Arthur walked in. Merlin hastened out of his seat to greet him fondly, unable to stop the wide grin that adorned his face. Arthur was equally unable to contain his glee. Merlin smirked and cast his eyes down towards the menu as he noticed how delicately Arthur took his seat. It secretly thrilled him to know that, even now, they were both thinking of their night of ardour.

Arthur started to scan the menu in an attempt to carefully avoid Merlin’s gaze before casually asking after Merlin’s meetings for the day.

“I’ve postponed them. Business can wait for a few days,” Merlin declared. 

He was rewarded with a delighted look from Arthur as he glanced up from the menu, that slowly morphed in a knowing and longing one. Merlin returned the look, as they silently told each other all the things they dare not say in the light of day, away from the safe havens of an enclosed room. And even there, there were still things that Merlin dare not actually say out loud. Arthur looked flustered, his chest heaving a little, and Merlin could hear little catches in Arthur’s breath, felt the way his own heart thudded loudly in his chest, surely loud enough to be heard over the gentle background chatter of the restaurant. Their breakfast had been all but forgotten along with their senses. He shifted forward ever so slightly and gently placed his fingertips on top of Arthur’s as they casually rested their hands on the table.

A subtle clearing of a throat beside them brought Merlin crashing back to earth with a start. He drew his hand away as though he had been burnt, and he was sure he was bright red as he gave his order to the waiter.

“So,” he said brightly, with an ease that belied his inner feelings, returning the menu with a slight tremor to his hand. “What would you like us to do first?”

 

**

 

The next few days were filled with a happiness so pure that Merlin had only ever known one thing that could touch it: the day that Drey had been born. 

Arthur was witty and biting at times, with an arrogance only possessed by the well-bred and those who came from old money. But he was also both generous and kind. There had been one or two occasions when he had been a stubborn imbecile, insisting against all odds that he was correct when he was very obviously wrong. But their arguments had been few and far between, easily forgotten when they found themselves tumbling into bed in a passionate embrace. 

And then there were the times when they were daring, teasing each other just for the thrill of it. One particular afternoon, when they were partaking of a leisurely afternoon tea in a cafe along the shore, Arthur had grown distracted as he watched the tide rise and fall along the sandy beach. Merlin paused for a moment too, taking the time to admire how the sun was teasing the sea with her light, shimmering on the surface without the two ever touching. With a sly grin, he slid off his shoe and caressed his foot enticingly along Arthur’s thigh, the long table cloth keeping his actions firmly hidden from view. He ground the heel of his foot firmly against Arthur’s stiffening arousal, and Arthur hissed in a breath, looking over at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“You need to stop that,” Arthur told him, his voice dangerously low.

Merlin had smirked at him. “Or else what?” 

Arthur had lowered his voice and moved his face closer to Merlin’s so that Merlin could see the small specks of indigo in his otherwise clear-blue eyes. “Or else, later tonight, I will take you apart with one _blow_.” 

In response, Merlin had felt his lips twist into an sinful smile. He continued to caress Arthur with his foot, almost causing Arthur to choke on a mouthful of tea. “I could take you apart with less than that.”

They hadn’t even waited for the evening that day, Arthur hurriedly flinging down some paper notes on the table to cover their bill as he grabbed Merlin by the hand and they dashed away back to their hotel, where Arthur had made good on his threat.

Those few days had seemed to stretch out forever, like wondrous, gleaming pearls slowly slipping off a string and one by one falling back into the sparkling sea. They were luxurious and lengthy and yet, not long enough. And whist their days had been glorious and fun as they laughed and joked like schoolboys on their hols, their nights had been filled with an all-consuming passion. Merlin had been determined to learn Arthur inside and out, until he knew him off by heart, bottling up the moments and memories like a golden elixir he could spend a lifetime supping on.

Finally, the day that Merlin had been dreading dawned upon them. He awoke in the low light of the early morning, the sun’s weak rays peeking through a small gap in the curtains. Merlin propped himself on his elbow and stared down at Arthur’s still-sleeping form. His heart ached at the thought of their impending farewell. He did not know how he was even going to manage to speak, let alone break their fast one last time together as he put on a brave face to bid Arthur on his way. Merlin did not want this. He wished with all his might that this moment might last for the rest of their lives, so that they would never be parted. Arthur looked so desperately young as he slumbered, and he was so new to the ways of life, having only really started to live. In comparison Merlin felt himself to be an old soul, with many years of life behind him and so very many boring, monotonous ones ahead. Trapped, with no means of escape in a prison of his own making.

He watched as the sun slowly rose, meandering its way across the room, starting to kiss the flawless skin of Arthur’s stomach and colouring the hairs on his a chest with a vibrant, glimmering gold as it rose and fell in conjunction with his breathing. If only Merlin could paint, this was the image he would chose: Arthur, who was simply handsomely divine and who would forever have Merlin’s heart.

He slid out of the bed and padded barefoot and naked over to the writing desk in the room, wrapping a sheet around himself before he sat. He grinned to himself as he picked up Arthur’s writing pen and proceeded to draw Arthur a crude picture of their stick figure name-sakes, ready to depart on exciting new adventures. It wasn’t much, but it was the best that he could do and he knew that Arthur would appreciate his efforts. And if it did nothing more than make Arthur smile for a moment or two once they had parted, then his little stick men would have done their jobs admirably. When he was finished, Merlin slipped the drawing inside an envelope and sealed it, tiptoeing over to place it on Arthur’s nightstand. Then he slid back under the the bedcovers and slowly crawled up the bed, smiling as he wrapped his lips around the head of Arthur’s morning arousal.

Above him Arthur gasped and arched his back as he was startled into wakefulness. “Oh, Merlin—” he exclaimed, his voice coming out as a rasp. 

Merlin continued to work him up and down with lips and tongue, desperate for their last few hours together to be special. He caressed Arthur’s body with mouth and hands together, and Arthur’s fingers slid into his hair, alternately tugging and soothing him, urging Merlin on and on, until finally they both reached completion.

As they lay there in each other’s arms, Arthur started to speak. “Merlin, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say.”

“Yes, Arthur?”

“Today, when I—when I go to the airport, I want to go on my own.” Merlin opened his mouth to speak, but Arthur motioned that he was not yet finished. “It’s not that I don’t want you there, because I do. It’s just, I do not trust myself not to be foolish and give us away.”

“But!” Merlin protested.

“Please,” said Arthur, looking desperate. “Please do not make this yet more difficult, Merlin. We both know that cannot show our true selves in such a manner. It would not be proper.”

“Screw propriety! How can society dictate who and how we should be? It is _they_ who are not proper, not us!” said Merlin, passionate and bitter.

Arthur sighed and kissed Merlin’s forehead, smoothing the hair from his brow. “I know, Merlin. But you must calm yourself. Perhaps, in another time or another place, things could have been different. But we must keep this secret between us. We really must. Need I remind you that you are married with a child?”

Merlin’s whole body tensed at the thought of what he had to go back to, once his trip was over. Oh, how could be bear it? To not only live without Arthur, but also to go back to Sophie and her malicious, spiteful digs and petty actions? No. He would not think of it; he wouldn’t sully their precious last hours with thoughts of home.

“Please, let us not talk of that,” he begged. “Let these last few moments be only for us.”

Arthur hummed his agreement as he ran his hands over Merlin’s chest and down to his waist. “Of course. We should rise and dress; I need to pack a last few things. Shall we meet for an early breakfast and then... we can come back here before I—”

Merlin silenced him with a kiss. He could not, would not hear that word from Arthur’s lips. Not until he had to. “Yes,” he agreed, slipping out of bed and gathering his clothes. He grinned at Arthur. “I’ll see you at breakfast, darling!” 

Shutting the door behind him, Merlin slumped against it, closing his eyes until he could summon the will to move and return to his own room. He had no doubt today was going to be one of the hardest days of his life.

**

A young couple with a small child ran past Merlin as he made his way towards the airport building. Merlin smiled weakly and nodded at them as he held open the door and let them pass through ahead of him. He hung back around the very edges of the departure hall, his eyes searching the throng of people eagerly. He knew that he should not be here. They had agreed that he would not be. But when it had come down to it, Merlin found that he just could not do it. They had exchanged heart-wrenching goodbyes at the hotel, and Merlin had watched from his window as Arthur’s car departed for the airport. But no sooner was the vehicle out of sight than he was down at the reception desk enquiring after a car of his own. 

And now he was standing here like the love-sick fool that he was, desperate for one last glimpse of Arthur before he jetted off out of Merlin’s life and was his Arthur no longer. Oh, how Merlin already loathed his future lover. 

Finally, Merlin spotted him. Standing near the gate, Arthur was the very picture of patience as he waited with the other passengers for his flight to be called. Merlin watched, his heart beating faster, as he saw Arthur pull an envelope out of his pocket and open it. He was rewarded with the sight of a secret, pleased smile from Arthur as he scanned the letter before carefully putting it back inside his jacket pocket. Then the line started to move forward, and Arthur paused, as though he somehow knew, turning his head to scan the crowd before he went through the gate to his plane. 

As their eyes met, Merlin saw that sudden spark of recognition on Arthur’s face. He shrugged his shoulders, a little embarrassed at being caught out. He’d only meant to get a last look at Arthur, not for Arthur to ever know he was there. He mouthed ‘sorry’ at him from across the hall. Arthur smiled at him, a golden, joyful smile as he said ‘thank you’ and touched his hand to his chest where he’d tucked away the picture. Merlin stared at him, his heart in his throat, and a sudden panic hit him. This was it. The very last time he would ever see Arthur. He plastered a smile on his face, the best he could muster, then Arthur turned away and walked through his gate. 

Merlin let out a shaky breath and scrubbed his sleeve across his face, trying to pull himself together enough to return to the hotel. His heart felt empty, as though Arthur had taken it with him when he’d walked through that gate.

 

**

 

Merlin sat at the desk in his study. Mordred was sleeping peacefully, and Sophie had retired to bed long ago, so all that Merlin had for company was the ticking of the clock on the mantle and the occasional pop of coal burning in the grate.

It had taken a bit of work, and a letter or two back and forth to his friend Gwaine for advice, but given that Pendragon was not a common name, especially amongst the wealthy upper classes, it hadn’t taken too long to find out Arthur’s connections. Merlin had decided to search for the Pendragon name in a copy of Debrett’s. His eyes had almost fallen out of his head when he had read the family history within and discovered that Arthur’s father was actually a Duke. It had not taken too much to deduce his address from that, and the information now rested in front of him on his desk, scrawled on a spare bit of paper and looking deceptively innocent.

He rubbed at his nose with his hand, deep in thought. Now that he had Arthur’s address, the question remained: what should he do with it? He stared at the fireplace. He missed Arthur so terribly much. He had been dreading coming home, and though it was wonderful to see Mordred, Sophie’s temper had soured still further, her reception frosty even by her standards. Their relationship had gone from bad to worse when Merlin had told her resolutely that he could not in good conscience bring another child into their family. They slept in separate bedrooms, and Merlin retreated to his study as soon as he could after returning home from work. Mordred had become so distant and withdrawn that Merlin was beginning to worry about him. He would take him out tomorrow, he decided, to the zoo and on a walk through Regent’s Park. The fresh air and some time away from the house would do them both good.

He looked down at the address once more, written in his own untidy scrawl. He shouldn't. He really, really shouldn’t. He had sworn that once Arthur walked out of his life, he would cut all ties with him and let him go. The fact that he had now found out he was a lord, just emphasised that his choice had been the correct one. Arthur deserved someone who could be with him, openly and honestly. Merlin could never be that person. He deserved a wonderful life with a bright, beautiful, happy wife and darling little girls and boys who looked almost exactly like him. Merlin’s smile was bittersweet at the thought of it.

And yet. Once he had returned home, Merlin had found himself unable to resist the temptation to at least find out where Arthur was living. Now he needed to decide if he was willing to break the promise he’d made himself and reach out to Arthur. He wanted to with all his being. It was almost as though _something_ was calling out to him to do so. That Arthur needed him in some way. But he certainly could not pen him a letter. He did not trust himself to do so without infusing it with sentimentalities. Nor could he bring himself to write a formal missive after everything they’d shared. He frowned as he toyed with the pen on his desk. He needed something which would let Arthur know he was thinking of him, but which wouldn’t give away the depth of their relationship. Something only they would understand.

With a sudden smile, it came to Merlin exactly what he would do. He took up his pen and a clean sheet of paper and drew another stickman picture, the sequel to the drawing he had given Arthur on the boat. It took a few failed attempts, but finally he was satisfied. He penned ‘MERLIN ARRIVES IN CAMELOT’ underneath it in bold, sharp capital letters and then sat back, a happy grin teasing at his lips. Perfect. He would post it tomorrow on the way to the zoo.

 

**

 

Even though he received no reply to his rudimentary stickmen sketches (he did not expect to, as he never put a return address on them), Merlin felt sure that Arthur was getting them. He found himself drawing and then sending one every week without fail, enjoying being able to tell Arthur the story of Merlin the sorcerer and Arthur the prince week-by-week. All the while, he hoped that Arthur was getting as much joy out of receiving them as Merlin was drawing them for him.

The sketches were the highlight of Merlin’s week. At night, he found himself longing for Arthur desperately, wishing he was living another life. He and Sophie barely even touched apart from a brief, chaste kiss on the cheek. Merlin would sometimes touch her stiffened back as he helped her through the door when they were in public, the perfect image of a restrained, religious couple, just as Sophie had wanted. But at home, she had started to rant and scream at him, having realised somehow that he was in love with someone else. They had exchanged bitter words, and Merlin had said some things that even now he felt bad about, but could not find himself to take them back. Knowing she had hit on the truth, she had dug at him, taunting him with the knowledge that he would never be able to be with his cruise ship fling. She barred him from traveling outside the city, an edict that he deliberately chose to ignore on a regular basis for work, or simply when he needed to get away from the house.

Though Merlin knew he bore some share of the blame for the way things were between him and Sophie, he couldn’t help remembering the way things had been so different with Arthur, so perfect and untainted by hatred or disrespect. Perhaps Merlin was remembering their time together through rose-tinted glasses, but he knew what he had felt for Arthur, and what he still felt for him all too keenly. He kept entertaining secret thoughts that maybe, one day, he might encounter Arthur again. Not to speak with him, just to see him; to be able to drink him in like a fine wine and get drunk on the very sight of him alone. He knew it was silly, an impossible fantasy, but it persisted all the same. 

Another thing that weighed on his mind during those long, sleepless nights was his concern for Mordred’s well-being. The boy was quieter than ever and barely spoke at all these days, acting sullen and withdrawn almost all the time. His sass and endearing smile were gone, replaced by a permanent scowl. At first, Merlin had tried to convince himself that Drey was just going through a stage. After all, he still managed to get Drey to open up to him when they went out on special day trips together. Adventures, Mordred had been fond of calling them. But now he was quiet and barely answered Merlin at all when they went out, and Merlin felt as though he was talking to a brick wall. He knew that the way things were at home was bad for Drey. But he did not know how to fix it. Not while Sophie refused to consider even so much as a trial separation, to say nothing of a divorce. Whenever he tried to be nice to her it got thrown back in his face, and he was tired, oh so tired. Would she ever decide enough was enough and remove her claws from him?

 

**

 

It was a Friday. School was finished for the day and Merlin had promised to take Drey out to shop for new shoes, so he had left his job early, eager to have some bonding time with his son. His heart was thrilled that Mordred had asked Merlin specifically to take him; it showed to him that their bond was still there, despite how fragile it had become lately. He and Sophie had finally started to discuss the possibility of a trial separation. She was not convinced yet, but she had at least been willing to finally talk about things after over a year of almost constant bickering that had been taking its toll on them all.

They walked along the street to the cobbler’s, checking out the window fronts of every shop they passed and engaging in one of their favourite pastimes—pointing out all the things that they would purchase if money was no object. They looked at all the fruit and freshly-scrubbed vegetables in the window of the greengrocer’s; admired the elegant bowler hats in the milliner’s, along with the latest in fedoras; and lingered in front of the haberdashery, which contained all sorts of strange and wondrous things. They stopped in to purchase some rather delicate pearl buttons that Drey wanted to buy for his mother. Merlin had taken to referring to Sophie as such, even in his head, as it reminded him to respect her and to behave better for Mordred’s benefit. 

The next shop was a delightful children’s bookshop, which was part of the reason Merlin had been so happy to take Drey out this afternoon. It was a place where he knew that Mordred would be in his element, and true to form Drey ran around the shop, browsing the shelves with an eagerness Merlin had not seen in him for so long. Merlin hung up his hat and coat at the door and proceeded to have a browse himself, looking at the displays of the latest children’s books. 

Merlin had had to pinch himself when he first spotted it. His eyes were drawn to the whimsical picture of a wizard and a knight on the front cover, his heart beating faster at just the mere reminder of Arthur. When he got closer, he could see Arthur’s name typed beneath the picture. Tears prickled at Merlin’s eyes, and he picked the book up with trembling hands. Opening it, his eyes were drawn to the dedication on the dust jacket. Simple, but he knew it was meant just for him.

_‘To the one who is dearest to my heart and inspires me to be my best, each and every day.’_

This book—it was his story, brought to life in vivid colour with Arthur’s quaint style and humorous dialogue. Merlin’s heart soared. Arthur loved him. Still loved him. He hurriedly flipped through the pages, a content smile on his face, before he snapped it closed and called to Drey so that they could make their purchases before finally making it to the cobbler’s.

That night, after having read the book to Drey and telling him that it had been written by a friend of his, Merlin looked through the book once more. It was perfect. Arthur was perfect. How he wished he could send him a letter telling him so, but still he could not. So instead, he settled down to draw the next part in the shared adventures of Merlin and Arthur.

 

**

 

Merlin had been thinking a lot about Arthur lately, not so much in terms of how much he still missed him, because that feeling was an almost permanent ache in his chest, but more about how proud he was of Arthur for following his dreams. It made Merlin think back on their conversation in his cabin—it seemed oh so long ago now—when he had talked about his dream of becoming an architect. He still dreamed of designing things, and seeing a beautiful, distinguished building still moved him. Perhaps it was time to put his foot down with Sophie and take the plunge. He was eager, friendly, and willing to put in all the time and effort that it took to get an internship. If Arthur could do it, so could he. Sophie be damned.

 

**

 

Merlin adjusted his bowtie, trying to ease his discomfort. He was nervous—so very, very nervous. He tucked his hands into his pockets, sure that if he did attempt to hold a glass he would drop it in an instant. He hadn’t realised until the start of the party, when he had met Leon’s wife, just who his employer was. If he had known, he couldn’t really say that he would have kept away, but he would have been able to better prepare himself. Still, at least he was better off than Arthur. Merlin was sure that Arthur didn’t have a clue that he was possibly going to meet Merlin tonight.

He closed his eyes and steeled himself. He could do this. Merlin was finally training to be an architect. He and Sophie were living apart whilst he worked in Birmingham during the week, returning back to London to see Drey on weekends. It had been such a relief to be free of Sophie’s toxic influence. And yet, even though he had regained some of his freedom, Merlin did not go out, nor did he attempt to meet another man. His heart still longed for Arthur, even though it had been two long years since they had parted. Merlin had always dreamed of seeing Arthur again, and he had to pinch his forearm hard to believe he was going to finally get the chance to do so. Tonight. 

It had all started when he met with Leon in London, hoping to get an apprenticeship with Knightley and Armstrong’s London office. Lancelot had recommended Merlin to Leon, having given him a glowing recommendation. However, it had not been meant to be. Leon had explained that they had no need of an apprentice at that time, and Merlin had returned home, his tail between his legs. He was beginning to despair at ever getting an apprenticeship and eventually becoming an architect in his own right. Maybe Sophie had been right; it was a silly thing for a man such as himself to even dream about. He should go back to his old job. Mr Kanen would certainly take him back, and though Merlin loathed the job with a passion, he had been good at it. At least he would be able to continue to bring home a handsome salary to keep Sophie and Mordred living their comfortable lives. 

The prospect was a tempting one, and it was certainly better than being poor and desperate for someone to give him a chance. Knightley and Armstrong had been his last hope. Then, the next day, just as Merlin had dressed in his finest, preparing himself to ask Kanen for his job back, the telephone in the hallway had rung. It was Percival Armstrong, Leon’s associate, calling to offer Merlin the chance to apprentice with him. The only catch was that it was in their Birmingham office. Merlin had immediately said yes. He couldn’t pass up this last opportunity to follow his dream. He would convince Sophie that it was for the best—a good way for them to trial a separation without anyone else knowing that their marriage was in trouble. She and Mordred would be able to continue to live their lives in a manner they’d become accustomed to, and Merlin would see them at the weekend. It had seemed like the perfect solution, even though Sophie had actually seemed sad at the prospect of not having him nearby.

Leon had been wonderful ever since Merlin had joined the firm—had it really been almost an entire year already? He had always made sure Merlin was invited to any key meetings in London that he might benefit from, but this was the first official function Merlin had been invited to attend, having assisted with the designs for this project. Leon had been commissioned to design the new building for an art museum, and it was a gorgeous design that he had every right be proud of. This gala was for the grand unveiling. 

Merlin hadn’t been able to believe his eyes when he first saw Morgana on Leon’s arm, much less when he’d introduced her as his wife. Merlin had recognised her instantly. She had been so striking in Arthur’s photograph, a difficult person to forget, and he realised then why Leon had seemed so familiar to him: he had been in Arthur’s photo also. He was sure though that Morgana would forever think him a simpleton, since he had been struck dumb at the sight of her. He had mutely nodded and shook her hand. Leon had puffed his chest out, seemingly proud that his wife had had such an effect on Merlin. He was glad that neither of them suspected the truth.

Merlin stood to the side of the room, alternately looking out the window and over towards the door, keeping his eyes peeled for when Arthur would arrive. He spotted him the moment that he stepped inside, chatting merrily with two women one on either side, both pretty beyond belief. One was petite, delicate and dark-haired, and the other boisterous, blonde and inherently clumsy—she had tripped over the threshold as they came into the room. Arthur grinned broadly as he gripped her arm to steady her, and Merlin turned away to look out of the window, his heart lurching and feeling sick to his stomach. It had happened, then. Arthur had found someone else, someone deserving of him, and had moved on. Well, Merlin wished him the best in life, he really did. But he still could not help but feel jealous and hurt deep down, despite the fact that he knew he had no right to do so.

He turned back to the window and watched the people out on the street, many of them dressed in their finest, strolling along to join the Gala, and tried not to think about Arthur, who was likely charming people on the other side of the room. So near, and yet, so far. Perhaps this had been a mistake. Arthur looked so well, filling out his suit deliciously, his hair meticulously coiffed (and oh, how Merlin longed to mess it up). He was perfect, as if were born to do this. In a way, Merlin supposed that he had, being the son of a Duke. And even though Merlin knew he had earned his place here through all his hard work, he could not help but feel even more out of place, more shabby, now that Arthur was here. Of course he was accompanied by two beautiful women; Merlin was hardly a fitting companion for a Lord.

Merlin startled when, seemingly out of nowhere, Leon grasped his elbow and drew him out of his thoughts, turning him so that he was staring directly at Arthur’s back. Leon grasped at Arthur’s arm too and started to speak to him.

“I have to introduce you to our new intern from the Birmingham office,” he said excitedly, leaning towards Arthur. “I’ve asked for his input on this project and he helped with the final design. He’s only been studying formally for a year but he’s got such talent.”

Merlin felt his heart swell with pride and joy at Leon’s praise, and it fluttered in his chest. And then Arthur turned to face him, and it felt as though his heart might well explode from the surge of warmth and tenderness that flooded it, wiping away any and all traces of jealousy.

“Arthur, please meet Merlin Emrys. He’s going to be a great architect.”

At Leon’s words, Merlin spurred himself into action. They had to play this off as if they had never even met, but how was that even possible when they cared for each other as much as they did? “Arthur, I’m pleased to meet you,” he said, his voice steady and kind, full of silent affection.

He held out his hand to Arthur, who eagerly wrapped his fingers around Merlin’s. Merlin felt himself tremble. This was the first touch they had had since they parted ways over two years ago.

“Mr Emrys - Merlin. I’m pleased to meet you,” Arthur said, his voice stilted and proper, but his face giving away a myriad of emotions as they took each other in. Merlin silently catalogued all the minute changes in Arthur’s appearance. He was healthier and heartier than ever, sporting a fetching golden tan and hair that gleamed with vitality. He was more beautiful than Merlin remembered, and he wondered what Arthur must be making of him. Merlin had not endured the past few years with as much grace. The stress of the breakdown of his marriage and the long, all-consuming hours he had put into his study had taken their toll. Just the other morning, he had spotted several grey hairs on his head and there were prominent dark patches beneath his eyes. He was turning a corner now that he had found his footing with his studies and within Leon and Percival’s company, but despite his best efforts he feared that he was not looking as well as he could for this meeting.

The moment was broken at last when they both realised Leon was watching they way they had been staring wide-eyed at each other with a rather curious expression on his face, as though he was trying to fathom them out. They hastily pulled their hands apart, and Leon looked at them knowingly before he left the two of them alone to pursue a conversation with a gentleman who was passing. Merlin felt a punch of fear in his gut. Did Leon know? How could he? Unless Arthur had said something, unless someone had given them away... A waiter passed them with a tray of drinks, and Merlin hastened to take two from the tray, passing one to Arthur.

All of Merlin’s worries about Leon just melted away then, as his eyes met with Arthur’s and he saw such glowing pride in them. “Merlin,” he said, the words low and infused with an undertone of joy before his voice almost failed him, choked as it was with emotion. “You’re an architect. I’m so damn proud of you.”

Merlin gave him a wry grin over his glass of scotch. “Training to be an architect, at least,” he corrected. “I didn’t realise the connection with Leon until today – until I met your sister.” His smile grew bigger at the mere thought of the book that had pride of place in his small room back in Birmingham, and he was so thankful he finally had the chance to tell Arthur how much he had loved it. “Arthur, I saw your book. It’s wonderful. I’m proud of you, too.”

At his words, a grin spread across Arthur’s face, until he was beaming. “I hoped you’d see it. You don’t know how much it helped to hear from you.” 

Without conscious thought, the two of them had drawn together, like a pair of magnets. They were standing far too close for it to be proper, but Merlin was unwilling to move further away. He had dreamed of this moment for too long. More than two excruciatingly long years had passed since he had last laid eyes on Arthur, and now that they were finally here, together again, he couldn’t pull himself away. Arthur seemed to feel the same, for he moved slightly closer still, and Merlin could hear him deliberately inhale, taking in his scent. A huge surge of want coiled in his gut as Arthur looked at him with an expression that Merlin knew well from their days together in Porto Madryn. It was the same look that Arthur had had on his face the day that they had gone walking in the foothills, all alone but for the nature that surrounded them. Upon realising there was no one around them for miles, Arthur had pressed him against a tree, his eyes dark and glittering with desire. Their bodies had become entwined as one, as they kissed passionately until lack of breath drew them apart. Merlin still remembers how red and plump Arthur’s lips were, the way his hair had looked in its complete disarray, such a contrast to him now. But his expression was just the same.

All of this passed through Merlin’s mind in the space of a moment. As they stared helplessly into each others eyes, he waited with bated breath, not quite sure exactly what would happen next but knowing that something must.

The next moment, however, Leon appeared again at Merlin’s elbow, and the tension was broken. “Merlin, so sorry to interrupt, ” he said apologetically. “But, I must ask for you to come with me, I have some people you simply must meet!” Merlin started to protest, but it was useless, and Leon propelled him across the room away from Arthur, gesturing towards a genial looking older couple. “May I introduce Mr and Mrs Tristan Constance, two of the donors for the new building. They wanted to talk with us about the design. Tristan, Isolde, this is our newest trainee who has been assisting me with the museum’s design, Merlin Emrys.”

With a final look of regret for Arthur, Merlin tore his gaze away and did his best to focus his attention on the expectant couple, smiling as genuinely as he could as he shook their hands warmly. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr and Mrs Constance,” he said, even though being pulled away from Arthur after so brief a moment was the antithesis of pleasure.

As he talked with their donors and the other partygoers about Leon’s design, admittedly with some enthusiasm, Merlin couldn’t help but keep an eye and ear out for Arthur. He was in the middle of explaining a particularly impressive part of Leon’s plans when he caught the sound of Arthur’s name amidst the babble of voices. His attention piqued, Merlin glanced over his left shoulder and caught sight of Morgana who was just behind him, introducing one of the women who had arrived with Arthur to her guests. 

“...Let me introduce you. This is Miss Elena Gawant, soon to become Mrs Arthur Pendragon, my sister-in-law.”

Merlin’s blood ran cold, and he stood frozen to the spot. He had always known that something like this would happen. Arthur was far too handsome a man to remain single for long. But there was a part of him, a very small part, which had hoped that Arthur still held a candle for him, and that he might have held back on marriage. It was selfish, Merlin knew, since if it weren’t for his being married himself, he and Arthur might have been able to come to some kind of... arrangement long before this. 

But now, any hopes Merlin had secretly held onto that eventually, someday, they could be together, were dashed. There was no way Arthur would be as weak as he was. Arthur would never allow himself to be unfaithful. He was too noble, too honest; if he had made this commitment to Miss Gawant, he would honour it.

Unable to listen to anymore, Merlin made his excuses and left, claiming that he had to catch the midnight train home. And like the coward he was, slipped away like a shadow in the night, hoping that Arthur would have a better marriage than he did.

 

**

 

He almost made it. He had already stepped onto the train and pulled the door closed behind him when he heard someone call his name through the opened window. 

“Merlin!”

No, oh no. Merlin froze, his body taut with tension at being caught, and he made the mistake of looking for the man whose voice he would recognise anywhere. Arthur was sprinting towards him like a madman, dodging through the people on the platform until he came to a stop in front of Merlin’s carriage. As he turned his blue eyes up to look at him, Arthur slid his fingers over Merlin’s, pinning him in place. His hands were warm and soft, and so perfect. And yet now, more than ever, they could not be Merlin’s. Not in this lifetime.

“You left,” Arthur said sadly.

Merlin swallowed. His throat was tight, and it felt as though he might choke simply from the emotion he felt, but he forced the words out of his mouth. He had to let Arthur know that he did not blame him. “Arthur, I heard you’re to be married. She’s very beautiful-”

Arthur swiftly moved to cut him off. “Merlin, stop, please – you know it’s not–“

“I know. I know.” Merlin smiled at him through blurry eyes. He knew that Arthur was not doing this out of choice, not really. The way Arthur was looking up at him with such tenderness and devotion made it impossible to doubt it. But men like them married out of necessity, because it was what was required of them, and however much Merlin resented it, he still wished Arthur and his bride a long and happy life together. Arthur’s happiness. That was what mattered to Merlin the most. “But I want you to be happy.”

“Please, Merlin.”

Merlin bit his lip, trying to hold back the veil of tears that threatened. Arthur sounded so desperate. Merlin longed to pull him close, to kiss him and hold him and tell him everything that would be all right. “I understand, my darling. I do,” he told Arthur. A sad smile flitted across his face as he leaned out of the window. “Don’t worry, I have so many stories to tell you.”

Arthur’s face brightened. “How many?”

“Enough for the rest of our lives and beyond. I promise.” Forever and ever, the adventures of Merlin and Arthur, throughout all of time.

The doors around them began to slam shut, and the guard down the platform blew his whistle. Merlin felt sick to his stomach once more. Another goodbye, but this one was certainly more bitter than sweet.

“Merlin, I love you,” called Arthur as the train started to move, drawing slowly out of the station.

With a herculean effort, Merlin held back his tears and smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile. Arthur loved him, and he loved Arthur. “I know. I love you, too. Be well, my darling.”

As the train pulled away, so was Arthur cruelly yanked from Merlin’s life once more. He cursed the racing engine as the build-up of steam blocked his view, and leaned out of the window to watch the platform, praying that it might clear just in time to give him one last glimpse. But much like their love, it was not to be. 

Merlin sat down on his seat and buried his face in his hands. He was silent for a long time as the train sped him supposedly homewards.

 

**

 

Merlin spent the rest of the week throwing himself into his work, doing any and everything that he could to avoid thinking about Arthur and his relationship with Sophie both. But try as he might, they pervaded his thoughts at every opportunity. He did not think he could do this anymore. After many nights spent grappling with his thoughts and feelings, he finally resolved that he would ask Sophie for a divorce. Force the matter, if he had to. What they were doing was neither good nor healthy for either of them, and it was completely unfair on Drey. What Merlin had hoped was a phase with him had become a deep melancholy, and neither he nor Sophie could get the boy to smile these days. Drey ignored them both for the most part, acting as though he were an automated machine rather than a boisterous ten year old child. He did what was asked of him without comment or argument; there was nothing overt that they could fault him on, but he obviously was not in good spirits. More than once, Merlin had heard him crying out in the night, only for Mordred to rebuke him when he went to comfort him. 

Merlin had thought that his relationship with Drey was bad, but it soon became clear that Sophie’s was worse. She was sharp and curt with Mordred, demanding that he respond to her and respect her as his mother. Merlin worried about them being together for the best part of a week without him, as Sophie seemed to have reached the end of her patience with the child. But that was likely Merlin’s fault, for leaving her trapped in an unsatisfactory marriage with a husband who did not love her. She deserved better than that, and Mordred needed an environment where he could see what love and happiness really looked like. Once they had divorced, Merlin would ask to have Mordred come stay with him in Birmingham. Getting out of the city to live somewhere cleaner would be good for him. Merlin would purchase a house further from his office where they could be near parks and woodland, which would give them plenty of space for imaginative adventures together.

Merlin smiled at the thought. He was not afraid of being a father to his son and doing the things that were traditionally expected of a woman. They would make a happy home together, just the two of them. Of course, Mordred would also have to have a nanny, as Merlin would not be able to be there for him all the time. But that could be arranged. They would pick one out together, to ensure that Mordred was happy with her.

He was interrupted from his chain of thoughts by the shrill bell of the telephone in the next room. Who could be calling him at this hour? Surely anything work-related could wait until the morning. A sudden chill hit him, causing him to shiver involuntarily as he went to pick up the receiver. Drey. Something had to have happened with Drey. Those were the only circumstances which would ever cause Sophie to call him in the middle of the night.

He picked up the telephone. 

“Hello? Merlin Emrys speaking.”

“Oh, Merlin, good. It’s you. Listen, you need to come home straight away. It’s–It’s Mordred. He’s just... sitting there in the kitchen. In his chair. He’s been there since this afternoon when he came home from school. He’s just sitting there. Staring at _nothing_. It’s like he’s _dead_.”

Merlin felt his heart sink and glanced at his watch. It was ten to eleven. If he put on his shoes and left right now, just as he was, he might just be able to make the last train.

“It’s okay, Sophie. Stay calm. I’m coming. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Have you called for a doctor?” he asked, pulling on his jacket and checking that he had money and his keys.

“Of course I haven’t, Merlin. What could they even do? Oh please, _do_ hurry! He’s scaring me.”

“I promise I will be there as just as soon as I can. I’m leaving now, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you, Merlin.”

“It will be all right, Soph. I’ll see you soon.”

 

**

 

It was almost two am when Merlin finally made it home, and he had actually made good time. The downstairs lights in the house were blazing brightly as he hastened to unlock the door and let himself in. Once inside, shoes and hat off— Sophie always insisted—he made his way to the kitchen. There he found Sophie, her head pillowed on her arms, fast asleep. She looked troubled even now, a small frown marring the beauty of her face. Merlin looked over at Mordred, sitting as Sophia had said on a kitchen chair. His eyes were open, staring straight ahead, but they were vacant, as though no one were home. Merlin placed a hand on Soph’s shoulder and pressed a gentle kiss of greeting to her forehead. Sophie’s eyes fluttered open and as soon as she realised that Merlin was really there she let out a sob and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Oh, Merlin, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t! I can’t! I have tried and tried, but nothing makes a difference. Every day he gets worse. I can’t take it,” she cried into his shoulder.

Sliding his arms around her waist, Merlin held her close, letting her sob as he rubbed soothing circles on her back and hushed her. “I know, I know,” he whispered. “It will all be okay.” He repeated it like a mantra, until finally her sobs lessened and she regained her composure.

Merlin glanced over her shoulder at Mordred, examining the boy. He was so still, if it weren’t for the telltale rise and fall of his chest, one might think he was not alive at all. Merlin suppressed a shudder. He reached out and waved a hand in front of Mordred’s face, then snapped his fingers to no response. Not even a blink.

“Let’s at least get him into bed,” he told Sophie, letting her go to bend and scoop Mordred up into his arms. “Then we can talk.”

When he came back downstairs, there was a tea set and some freshly buttered bread on the table.

“I thought you might be hungry,” Sophie said. Merlin smiled at her and went to kiss her on the cheek. But she pulled away from him. “Don’t, Merlin. Please.”

He acquiesced, and instead took a seat at the table whilst Sophie poured him a cup of tea.

“So, I’ve been thinking about Mordred,” he said, once Sophie sat down across from him. She merely looked at him, as though sceptical that he could have any answers to his son’s predicament. “I think that we should send him away for a while.”

“What!” Sophie exclaimed. “No, absolutely not. I _forbid_ it.”

Merlin winced at her tone. “But Sophie, we’re his parents. He needs us to make the right decisions for him. Mordred is not well. He hasn’t been for some time. We can both see that with our own eyes!”

“And whose fault is that, Merlin? You’ve never loved me, not even we were courting! You didn’t want him! You are away constantly, and the child hardly ever sees you! Is it any wonder he’s turned out like this?”

Merlin bristled. “I have tried to–”

“Oh, please. You act as though I am blind! You have been hopelessly pining over someone for years now, ever since that ridiculous cruise you went on for Kanen in Argentina. Who is he, huh? A nice Argentinian man? A fling? Or did you bring him back with you to stash away in your flat in Birmingham?”

Merlin stood up and glared down at her, his fists clenched. How dare she talk about Arthur as though he were some sordid bit on the side. “Don’t be ridiculous. I tried so hard to have you and Mordred move with me last year and you refused it. You have refused everything that might be of benefit from him. You do not engage him. When he has had requests—small, simple ones that would not cost us much—you denied him as a punishment to me! Enough, Sophie. I will _not_ let you ruin our son that way.”

“Oh, so he’s our son now, is he?”

“He has _always_ been our son. I have _tried_ and I have _tried_ to make things better between us. I made a mistake by asking you to marry me so young, I see that now. But I was scared and wanted to fit in. To be normal,” he said, trembling with rage, before his voice softened. “But I love our son, with all my heart. So don’t you _dare_ suggest otherwise.”

Sophie scowled and crossed her arms. “So what are you suggesting then?” she said finally, as a peace offering.

Merlin took her metaphorical olive branch and sat again, trying to calm himself. “As I said, I think he needs to go away. Somewhere away from both of us, where there are people who are specialised in helping those with troubles such as his. The longer he is here with us, the more we are damaging him. I have a friend who went to a sanatorium—” Sophie made a noise of protest at this. “—where they helped him get better and become a marvelous, confident, and outgoing man, as opposed to the withdrawn and lonely soul he was before. I would not suggest it if I didn’t think they could help Drey, Soph.”

She stared down at the tea in her cup and sighed. “Fine. Have it your way, Merlin. But know this. I do this because I am Mordred’s mother. It is enough that I have to live with a husband who likes his indiscretions. I will not live with a son who is both crazy and a failure. We will tell people that he has gone to visit with family. You will not breathe a word about where he is to another soul, and you will not see him at all whilst he is there. You’ve brought enough shame on this family. This whole experience will be _entirely_ under my command. Is that clear?”

Merlin opened his mouth to protest. Mordred was _not_ crazy, and how could she be so cruel, to keep him from seeing his son? But on the other hand, something had to give, and from the look that Sophie was giving him, he was certain it would not be her. He felt the fight drain from him, and a heavy feeling settled in his stomach. Mordred needed this. He needed Cascades and Dr Harcourt and all the good things that they could give him there, things that he and Sophie could not provide. Merlin was defeated. He closed his mouth, the words having died on tongue.

Sophie tilted her chin, looking haughty and proud. “Good. Make the necessary arrangements, and I will decide when to take the boy.”

 

**

 

It was late on a Saturday afternoon. Normally, Merlin would already be back home in London, but recently, things had changed. It had been almost two weeks now since Sophie had taken Drey to Cascades—on a weekday no less, having deliberately chosen to go on a day when Merlin was completely unable to get the time off to take him. Undoubtedly she had done it as a way to punish Merlin further and prevent him from being there to say goodbye before they left. When she had returned the next day, she called him on the telephone. Apparently she felt it best that he remain in Birmingham whilst Mordred was away, rather than returning home. Who knew what yarn she would spin for her friends, whose opinions she seemed to have more concerns about than for her own child, but Merlin was sure that she would manage it.

That was how he came to his current predicament: being stuck for a long boring day in his small flat, trying to while away the time reading a new book and filling out the crossword in the newspaper. Merlin missed his son desperately. He had been at the Cascades for over a week now, and Merlin had had no contact with him since he’d left. When he had tried calling, he was told that the doctors could not speak with him, as Mordred’s information was confidential, strictly between his doctor and his mother. Merlin had tried to patiently explain that he was the boy’s father, but they wouldn’t budge. It was the same every time that he had called. Drey had not called him, either, but Merlin could not blame him for that—he was a child. Perhaps he had not been given opportunity to call, or perhaps he simply did not want to. All of these circumstances had conspired against Merlin, however, and led to his having no clue how his son was getting on. He did not know if Drey liked it there, or if he hated it; if he was having fun, or if he was scared being so far away from home with people who were complete strangers to him. 

What if he had made a huge mistake when he had insisted that they send Drey away? It was not like he’d ever met any of the staff at the Cascades, nor had he had more than have a brief conversation with the intake nurse over the telephone. All Merlin really had to go on was Arthur’s recommendation. But no, there was no way that Arthur would steer him wrong. Just look at the metamorphosis Arthur had undergone. He would trust in Arthur, as he would in Dr Harcourt and Cascades to work their miracle on Drey as they had on him.

Just as he was pouring himself his evening cup of tea, readying himself for an early night, the telephone rang, pealing loudly in the quiet room. Merlin rose from his chair, now only partly dressed, and hurried to answer it.

“Good evening, Merlin Emrys speaking,” he said.

Then Merlin heard a small, but very familiar voice speaking down the line. “Daddy. Oh, daddy.”

“Drey? Drey, how lovely to hear from you.”

There was no reply, only heart-wrenching sobs that sounded as though they were being ripped from the little boy’s chest. Merlin swallowed and tried to speak, to comfort him, it seemed to take an age before he found his voice. “Drey? Drey, darling, it’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Mr Emrys.”

A gasp escaped Merlin’s lips. That voice. He knew that voice so well. But why was Arthur there? How had be come to be with Drey?

“Arthur?” he asked, his voice little more than a whisper.

“Arthur Pendragon, here, yes.” Arthur’s voice was polite and curt, as though they had never even met, let alone been lovers. Merlin felt his heart sink. So this was how it would be now that Arthur was to be a married man. “Merlin, Mordred’s been worried about you. They wouldn’t let him ring you and he thought you were ill.”

Merlin had to smile a little—as soon as he’d mentioned Drey, Arthur’s tone had turned swiftly from polite to caring. But as Arthur continued to speak, explaining what had happened, a frown began to take its place. He had already deduced for himself that Drey had not been able to call for whatever reason, but it angered him deeply that he had been prevented from calling. The poor child was still sobbing and hiccupping in the background. Drey had believed him ill. How could they have done that to him? Merlin wanted to get on the first train possible and bring Drey home himself, except he knew that it was likely Sophie who had instructed it.

“Oh, my poor boy,” groaned Merlin. His heart was hurting as he thought about all that Drey had suffered. “He’s been so troubled and I remembered how you spoke about Cascades and how much you believed in Dr Harcourt. Sophie couldn’t cope and I thought it would be better if they were apart.”

There was a silence between them as Merlin grappled with the situation. He knew now why Drey was so upset, but not how Arthur had come to be there comforting him, especially when he must still be grieving himself for his father. Merlin had seen the obituary in the newspaper.

“Arthur, your father. I’m so sorry. I wanted to write, but–” How could I? People might have found us out.

“I know. I know you did,” said Arthur. Merlin felt a wave of relief wash over him. He had been so worried that Arthur might think he didn’t care; that he had forgotten him. “Thank you. It happened when I told him Elena and I had decided not to marry. I–I blamed myself but the nurse and doctor both assured me they’d been expecting it.”

Merlin licked his lips nervously. “You’re not marrying?”

“No,” Arthur reassured him. “It was only ever for convenience, anyway. It wasn’t right.”

Merlin felt his heart soar. If Arthur had chosen to remain a free man—if he truly had not fallen in love with another—then that meant maybe, just maybe... there might yet be hope for them.

“I shouldn’t be glad, Arthur. But I am,” he said honestly, and then he paused before he added, “I still feel the same, Arthur.”

“I know. Me, too.” Arthur sounded as emotional as Merlin felt. “Now, Drey’s calmed down, so I’m going to let you two have a lovely long chat.”

“Thank you, my darling,” Merlin whispered, and then he listened to the shuffling noises as Drey took the receiver.

“Daddy, it’s so good to talk to you. I’ve missed you so much,” said Drey with a suppressed sniffle. 

The tears that had been threatening for Merlin started to drop, one by one, and he hastened to clear his throat. “Oh, I’ve missed you too Drey. So much. I am so sorry that I had to work the day you left.”

“It’s okay, Daddy. It wasn’t your fault. Daddy, Arthur is so nice. He called me Drey! Only you know to call me Drey. Mother says it’s silly. But it’s not is it, Daddy? Do you know Arthur?” Mordred spoke rapidly and excitedly, his earlier fright and tears now dissipated.

Merlin smiled to hear Drey tell of his approval of Arthur. “No, it’s not silly, my boy. Nothing that matters to ourselves is ever silly. And yes, I do know Arthur.”

“Really? How?” came Mordred’s surprised reply.

“I met him on that cruise ship I went on two years ago. Do you remember? I brought you back that model aircraft. Arthur is my best friend.”

He could hear Mordred’s sigh down the telephone line. “I wish I had a best friend,” he said.

“You will, Drey. One day. Now, tell me, how is Cascades? Are you enjoying yourself?”

Merlin listened with a smile as Drey proceeded to tell him some of the things he’d been doing since he had arrived at the sanatorium. While he started off talking about how he had hated it there and didn’t like all the sports they were making him play, he finished off by gushing about Arthur and his trip into town in his car.

“...I guess overall, it’s okay. Especially now Arthur is here. Look, Daddy, I have to go. Arthur is going to get me some more ice cream.”

“Oh, well I would hate to keep you from that,” said Merlin wryly.

“Yeah, I know! I love you Daddy, thanks for talking with me.”

“I love you too, Drey. We’ll talk again soon, okay?” Merlin promised, knowing that Arthur would help ensure it.

“Bye, Daddy!”

“Goodbye, Drey!”

The line went dead and Merlin hung up the phone. He grinned widely. Drey was okay and he was going to be fine. With Arthur there with him, how could he not be? As Merlin sat back down at the table, his concerns about Drey’s well-being abated, he thought more about his conversation with Arthur. He was no longer getting married, and more than that, he had said that the marriage had been a farce to begin with. Merlin knew that he shouldn’t really be so happy about it—the poor girl, Elena, that Arthur had been due to marry must have be devastated when he had broken off their engagement. Merlin knew he would have been, and that was without factoring in such things as money or property. Which, he reflected, Arthur probably had rather a lot of, now that his father had passed and he was a Duke, of all things!

Merlin was sorry for Arthur that he had lost his father, but he wasn’t really sorry that Uther Pendragon was gone. Merlin had never met the man, but he knew what a hold he’d had over Arthur growing up, how he had stifled him and tried to prevent him from becoming the man he was today. Pendragon had done everything he could to ensure that his son never became the man he was truly meant to be, and Merlin hated him on that principle alone. Arthur should never have been treated so poorly; it was a travesty. Merlin was thankful for Cascades and the careful guidance of Dr Harcourt. And since speaking with Arthur and Drey, he was convinced that the place would work the same magic on Drey.

 

**

 

As the weeks carried on, so did Drey’s phone calls to Merlin. Arthur made sure they were firmly established in his boy’s therapy plan, and it certainly appeared to have the desired effect. Their phone calls together had become a regular part of Merlin’s routine. Every Wednesday and Saturday night at 6:30pm sharp, either he or Drey would make the call. Merlin was overjoyed at the progress Drey was making and delighted that he was finally starting to become not only the boy that he remembered, but better—happier, less cautious and more confident in himself. He could tell that Drey looked forward to his time spent with Arthur, and from the sounds of it, the feeling was mutual. Over the course of the past few weeks, Arthur had called Merlin also, and for once Merlin found himself grateful that Sophie had insisted on their separation, because it now allowed him to speak completely openly and freely with him.

After having had so little contact with Arthur over the past few years, being able to talk with him again was like finding water after wandering endlessly through a desert. Merlin drank in their conversations and treasured them more than he could express. What always started off as conversations about Mordred, with Arthur updating Merlin on his son’s progress, soon diverged into conversations about Merlin’s studies and his work with Percival and Leon. Merlin, for his part, asked Arthur what it was like being a Duke now, teasing him mercilessly about his new status before asking him seriously about how things were going at the estate he had inherited from his father. Gradually, the talks drifted towards more personal information; anecdotes from their childhood, what they hoped might lay ahead of them in the future. Merlin told Arthur things that he’d never before breathed to another soul, not wanting there to be any secrets or lies between them.

One day when they were talking, Arthur surprised Merlin by asking, “Would you let Mordred come home to Pendragon Manor with me?”

It was such an unexpected request that Merlin found himself unable to respond straight away, wondering how it could possibly work. “For how long?” he asked cautiously. “I don’t know what Sophie would say? And, Arthur, I need to see him, too.”

“You’re always welcome in my home, Merlin. For as long as you and Mordred want to stay.”

Merlin held his breath at Arthur’s tone of voice. What was he implying? He wanted to visit Arthur’s home so badly; to witness Arthur in his natural element. He could see it now—Arthur spending the day being the lord of the manor before coming home to Merlin to share their nights together. Not just for a few days, but for always. Merlin knew then that he wanted more than merely the thought of it. He wanted—no, _needed_ to live it. His mind raced, thinking about all the things that stood in their way. He would need to try to persuade Sophie to allow it. Could he convince her somehow that Mordred would be better off under his custody? Merlin wasn’t sure what kind of arrangement she would agree to, but he thought it unlikely she would release Mordred to him completely, even though changes were more than overdue. And that wasn’t even thinking about the huge risk he and Arthur would be taking, or what might happen if anyone were to find them out.

“Arthur,” he whispered. “I want to. You know I do, but I need to finish my training, and try and work something out with Sophie.”

“I know,” replied Arthur, with a longing sigh. “I know it’s difficult, but will you think about it?”

He would. He already had; his thoughts had been full of nothing else since Arthur had mentioned it a few minutes ago.

“Yes, you know I will,” he said, before adding, “and I’d like Drey to stay with you if it isn’t an imposition.” Merlin knew that Mordred would be thrilled to go and visit Arthur, although not as thrilled as Merlin would be. Merlin could just imagine his excitement when they told him.

“I’d love to have him with me – you can visit soon?”

Merlin thought about his studies and the projects he had been assisting with at work. It shouldn’t be too difficult to arrange a small period of leave. He was surely due a small break. “I’ll look forward to seeing your home.” And you in it, Merlin added silently. 

Then he sighed, and with a heavy heart he opened up to Arthur, telling him all about the various ways Sophie had been using Drey to hurt him. He hadn’t wanted Arthur to know, because he didn’t want him to think badly of her, but it was important to him that Arthur should be able to take good care of Drey on his visit to Pendragon Manor. Slowly, he started to explain to Arthur how Sophie had been the one to take him to Cascades—he hadn’t been able to get the time off work at such short notice—and how, in a subsequent phone call to Gaius, he had discovered that she had told them not to let Drey contact him. He heard Arthur exclaim angrily over the phone line, demanding to know how Sophie could do such a thing when Drey adored Merlin as he did.

“That’s exactly why she did it,” Merlin sighed. The pain that Sophie had caused through her manipulations had never faded. “I can’t send him back to her, you understand. For all she said she wanted a child, it was only a way to try and tie me further to her. Ever since Drey was born, she’s seen him as a tool; a way of punishing me. Drey is a clever boy and a sensitive one. He worked out how much she dislikes him when he was quite young. I know how much you care about him and I know you’ll look after him for me.”

“I will. I promise you that, my love.”

Then Merlin explained that he would be finishing his course in the coming months and that Leon had already given him a position to go to in the company. Once he had completed the course, he intended to go to see Sophie and make sure that they ended things once and for all. Even as he talked about it, however, it made Merlin a little bit sad. Sophie wasn’t a bad person. Not really. She had been duped into a marriage with a man that could not love her as she deserved, with a child that she had claimed to want, but in actuality had not really cared for. He hoped that once they finally parted ways for good, she would be able to go and make a good life for herself, one where she would finally be happy with someone would would love her as much as he loved Arthur.

“I understand. I’ll talk to Gaius tomorrow and if he feels it is the right time and the right situation for Drey, I’ll get him to ring you tomorrow evening, so you can tell him.”

“Thank you, Arthur. So very much. I know this won’t be easy, but it will be worth it.”

“Yes,” agreed Arthur. “I cannot wait for it, Merlin. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, darling.”

Arthur’s breath hitched, and Merlin’s mind drifted back to their time together in Porto Madryn and how very long it had been since they had last been intimate. Merlin had not been with anyone since then. He couldn’t even comprehend the thought of there being anyone other than Arthur who he could desire in that way. In the dark of night when he took care of his needs, it was Arthur than he thought of, Arthur whose name was on his lips when he cried out with pleasure. To think that, soon, if they continued to wait patiently, they could have that again. Not for a day, not for a week, but forever? Merlin thought his heart might burst from happiness. 

“Goodnight, Merlin,” said Arthur.

“Goodnight, Arthur.”

 

**

 

Merlin was excited, though he tried his best to feign normality as the old bus rumbled along country lanes on its way to the Pendragon estate. Leon had offered Merlin loan of car when he had learned that Merlin was going to visit Mordred at Arthur’s abode, but Merlin had declined the offer with thanks, much preferring to travel by train and then bus to reach them. Somehow, it felt like more of an adventure this way, as though he was going discover something thrilling and new. Besides, he wasn’t sure that he would have much need of a car once he arrived. He did not intend on doing anything but spending time with Drey and Arthur.

He wondered idly how the two of them had been getting on. Drey had only been with Arthur for two weeks, but Merlin was sure they would have been having lots of jolly capers together, perhaps on the horses that Drey had talked about non-stop on their last telephone call. Merlin was curious as to how must Drey had changed during their separation. It had been several months since he had last seen him; pale, withdrawn and anxious. It made Merlin sad to even think of it. He was sure that Drey would be much improved, certainly in colour and disposition.

It wouldn’t be long now until he saw him, along with Arthur. The bus had been making great time and Merlin was starting to notice signs for the village which Arthur had said was closest to his home. Merlin knew that he would need to disembark near the post office and make his own way down the lane, suitcase in hand. But he did not mind it. In fact, he welcomed it. He had come from humble beginnings; his father had died young and his mother had raised him herself, and though he had done well for himself, he did not like too much in the way of fussing. 

Soon he found himself walking down said lane, absorbing all that he saw. It was a place of beauty and pure wonder. How lucky Arthur was that all this was his! As he reached the end of the road, Merlin found himself looking through parted trees towards an elegant mansion at the end of a regal driveway. Merlin swallowed, a little nervous all of a sudden at how huge Arthur’s home was. Why did Arthur want him, when he had this? Arthur could have his pick of anyone, and yet, he had settled for Merlin. The thought almost beggared belief. 

Despite his worries, Merlin forged on. He knew in his heart that the love they shared was true. Over thousands of years, over thousands of lifetimes, the feelings between them wouldn’t change.

Finally, Merlin reached the door. He set down his suitcase and smoothed his hands over his suit, hoping that he was at least reasonably presentable given his long journey to get there. Then he knocked, and stood back to wait for it to be answered.

It didn’t take long. A few moments later, the door was whipped open and there was Arthur, staring straight at him with unconcealed happiness and joy. Arthur reached out to him, and Merlin took his hands in his, unable to anything but grin so hard that it hurt his face as he looked Arthur up and down to see if he had changed any since they’d last met. As usual, Arthur looked so very well and content, as a man of his standing should be. He was looking at Merlin intently, and Merlin couldn’t help but worry about his crumpled outfit and the fact that he was tired and sweaty from exercise. Merlin knew that his appearance had, at the very least, improved since their last meeting, thanks to their late night conversations and knowing that Arthur was not to be wed. But he was still dirty and travel-worn.

He was startled from his thoughts at a familiar-sounding exclamation from inside the house.

“Dad!”

A tall, strong boy with dark, curly hair was coming down the stairs, drawing Merlin’s attention. Merlin gasped in shock as he realised that this was his boy. Drey. He had not seen him in so long, and he did not think he had ever seen him so well and happy. Merlin’s keen eyes catalogued all the changes the boy had undergone. He had grown both taller and bigger, the ugly glasses and the braces gone—those alone would have made him look different, but there were yet more changes to take in as well. His cheeks were rosy instead of pale and wan and his eyes sparkled with merriment. But all that was nothing in comparison to the way he held himself now, his back straight as he oozed a quiet confidence and contentment. He seemed so very grown up, and Merlin felt a pang of regret that he had missed Mordred’s metamorphosis. However, it seemed as though he was still Merlin’s little boy, as he suddenly shed his grown up manners and came barreling down the stairs, flinging himself into Merlin’s arms. Merlin closed his eyes a moment, just taking in the feel of Drey as they hugged. When he opened them, he saw Arthur watching them, looking both delighted and amused. Merlin smiled and mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him. All the words in the world could not express how grateful he was to both Arthur and Cascades for helping his boy.

Drey finally released him from their hug, and Merlin was about to retrieve his suitcase when Arthur swooped in and took it, leaving the footman to take Merlin’s coat and fedora.

“Drey, why don’t you show your dad your room?”

Merlin grinned and bounced on his heels as Drey exclaimed, “Yes, Dad. Come on, you have to see it, it has the _best_ view of the gardens and I can show you my collection of rocks I found down near the river. Come on, this way!”

Drey tugged on his sleeve and pulled him towards the stairs.

“Yes, let’s,” Merlin agreed. “I want to hear all about the wonderful adventures you’ve been having here.”

As they reached the top of the stairs, Drey started to point. “This way, Dad. My room is down here.” Merlin glanced over his shoulder for a last glance of Arthur, who was standing in the hallway with his footman. The old man looked rather amused by the whole situation, smiling as he spoke approvingly with Arthur. “Dad, come on! After you’ve seen my room I’m going to take you to see the stables so that you can meet all the horses!”

Merlin smiled and ruffled his son’s hair. “Whatever you want, Drey.”

 

**

 

Once Drey had given Merlin a tour of his spacious room and shown him the bookshelf that he had filled with all sorts of things that were of interest to young boys—rocks, acorns, sticks of interesting shapes and sizes, broken pottery and other precious finds—Merlin was taken off to meet the horses.

The stables were almost as vast as the house, and Merlin whistled to himself, staring around in wonder. He’d never seen anything quite like it. The farmers from Ealdor, the village where he had grown up, all had stables, of course, and kept horses. But they were small, dark, warm places; tumble down shacks that smelt strongly of horse and hay. Nothing remotely like this.

“Daddy, Daddy! Come here,” said Drey, dragging him over by the hand. They walked through the clean, bright buildings, which had been fitted out with every modern convenience that money could buy, until they were standing in front of a small grey horse

Drey puffed out his chest proudy. “This is my horse, Daddy. Arthur said I can name her.”

“Oh, Drey, I don’t think you should be—”

Mordred pulled him over to splendid black horse. “This is Arthur’s horse. He’s called Hengroen. And this is Llamrei. Arthur said you can take her out when we go for our morning ride, because she’s so gentle.”

“Our morning—” Merlin began, flummoxed, before Drey was on the move once more, and he subsided, allowing himself to be introduced to all the horses in the stable.

Mordred chattered on as the walked, whilst Merlin listened patiently. His breath caught in his chest at the mention of Elena, who according to Drey was running the stables. So she was still a part of Arthur’s life then? Merlin wondered if he had misread everything. No. He shook off his doubts. If there was anything still between them, Arthur would have told him, he was sure of it. He would hardly have invited Merlin and Drey into his home if he was still entertaining thoughts of her. 

When they returned to the house, Drey pointed out Arthur’s study to Merlin. Curious to see where Arthur might spend most of his days, Merlin poked his head around the door. Everything here was so much larger than he was used to. This room alone almost as spacious as his flat in Birmingham. Thick velvet drapes hung at the windows next to a half-finished painting of a beautiful landscape, an intricate woolen carpet lay beneath their feet, and a fire burned brightly in the grand marble fireplace. The desk, Arthur’s desk, was beautifully crafted. Merlin couldn’t even begin to imagine how much it might cost. Outside of the decorative study were all those rooms and hallways he and Drey had passed when leaving the house, stretching out for what seemed like miles. Then there were the immense stables, and the grand staircase which swept down into the entrance of the house like the train of a lady’s dress, a lady who should be here in his place. And that was only the parts of the house that he had seen. Who knew how spectacularly lavish and huge the rest of it might be.

He knew that Drey loved it here, but he just couldn’t take advantage of Arthur’s kind heart and hospitality. He should take Drey home with him to Birmingham, or perhaps even back to London if Leon was willing to transfer him, so that they could settle down in a house that Merlin had earned through his own hard work. He simply had nothing of any value to offer Arthur, and he had known since they met that Arthur had been a cut above him in all the ways that mattered. None of that had been important on the boat or at Porto Madryn, but now, here on Arthur’s estate where he was a Duke—a Duke for crying out loud—Merlin could see the disparity between their social standings all the more clearly. For what could a Duke want with a lowly trainee architect with nothing to offer but love and lofty dreams? He knew now what he needed to do.

“Drey, I think I will wait here. I need to have a private word with Arthur. Would you be able to let him know that I am waiting for him?” he asked, his hand resting on the door.

“Of course, Dad. Tristan and Elena are here anyway, and I want to ask them about the new horse.”

“Thank you, Drey,” said Merlin with a weak smile, as he slid inside the room.

While Drey went dashing off to fetch Arthur, Merlin stood by the fireplace, wringing his hands. He was not looking forward to this conversation, but it had to happen. He couldn’t let Arthur keep carrying him like this; it wasn’t fair.

It didn’t take long for Arthur to reach the study. Once inside, he swiftly turned and locked the door, and Merlin felt his heart sink. _Oh, Arthur. Please don’t make this harder than it has to be._ Arthur crossed the opulent room towards him, and Merlin was pretty sure he knew what Arthur was expecting to happen. He took a step back and turned away from him, staring down at the desk as he tried to compose himself. He could not, would not allow himself to succumb to the temptation of Arthur’s lips. Even looking at him would be too much. Absently, he picked up the letter opener that he was sure cost more than he made in a week and fiddled with it as he spoke.

“I think I should take Mordred home with me.” There. He had managed to say it, and without so much as a quiver in his voice.

Though he was turned away, Merlin could feel Arthur’s surprise and shock behind him. “Why?” Arthur choked out.

Finally, Merlin turned towards Arthur. He felt sure that his expression probably spoke for itself, as he could no long pretend to be cool and aloof in the face of his lover. “You know why, Arthur, you must know,” he pleaded, desperate to make himself understood. How could Arthur not know, when he felt it himself so very keenly? “How can I continue to take advantage of you like this? I have nothing to offer in return. And I can’t keep taking and taking, darling.”

Arthur stared at him as though he was an idiot, and even as he paced the carpet Merlin couldn’t help but feel a bit foolish under Arthur’s gaze. And yet, was it not correct of him to point this out? Arthur was so kind-hearted and so generous, and he had been always known such luxury. Merlin knew that he would never have even dreamt of taking advantage of Arthur’s generosity, but perhaps Arthur had yet to realise how easy it would be for others to do so.

“You stupid, stupid man,” Arthur said finally. Merlin froze mid-step, turning towards him. “Or wait, no. Perhaps it’s me who’s stupid. How can you not know that you helped me become who I am; that your love sustains me. You have given me everything, Merlin. Everything. I thought we could work together to raise your son, to give him the life and the love he deserves. Your child. Merlin, have you no idea what you gave me when you allowed Drey to come here? How can you –“

But Merlin halted his passionate ramblings with a hand over his mouth. 

“Arthur, hush,” he said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t understand. Please, forgive me.” 

Merlin let out a small gasp as Arthur had the audacity to lick at his palm! A surge of lust and laughter flooded through him at the action, and Merlin could not help it. He wrapped a hand around the nape of Arthur’s neck, where his skin was warm and soft, drawing Arthur near, and for the first time in many long years, they kissed. It was gentle and loving and replete with all the longing that had filled the years they had waited. It was exciting and overwhelming and almost too much.

Then Arthur took Merlin in his arms and buried his face against his neck, and all of a sudden, it felt as though the world were righting itself. He was free of Sophie at last. The two of them had spoken and agreed the terms of their divorce, including allowing him to keep custody of Drey, in exchange for the house in London and a hefty stipend for the foreseeable future, or until Sophie married again. But it was a small price to pay if he could have not only Drey, but Arthur too. Merlin smiled as he rested his head on top of Arthur’s. The way forward would not be easy, for the world was against them and one day they might very well have to face society. 

But for now, everything felt perfect. As if it was always meant to be.

 

Epilogue

The library was quiet, except for the crackling of coals where Merlin was gently stoking the fire to warm the vast room. He and Arthur had just returned from a night out in London, where they had gone to dinner together and watched a show.

It had been a year since Merlin had officially moved in with Arthur. His divorce with Sophie had finally been completed, and Merlin had it on good authority that she was now courting a rather upstanding member of her new church congregation. He wished them both as much happiness as he and Arthur had; Sophie deserved that for all that he had put her through.

Drey had settled down nicely and was doing well at his new school, and Merlin and Arthur had been living most contentedly together, reveling in each and every moment spent in each other’s company. Merlin still couldn’t quite believe that they got to have this. That he got to see Arthur every day, to kiss him, to hold him, to love him and be loved by him. That he got make love with Arthur whenever they pleased, without having to worry about the judgment of others. It was an open secret amongst the staff at Pendragon Manor, and Merlin occasionally caught whispers of how happy Mr Pendragon was now that he had Mr Emrys as an intimate friend. Most of the time, with the occasional exception, he and Arthur contained themselves when they were outside of the privacy their shared rooms. But Merlin knew that soon enough they would have to sit down and have a talk with Mordred.

He was a bright lad and had been giving them a lot of puzzled looks of late. Mordred knew that there was _something_ going on between his father and Arthur, but he couldn’t quite fathom out exactly what it was. He had discovered recently that Merlin and Arthur shared a bed, after coming in search of Merlin after a nightmare only to find his bedroom cold and empty, the bed still neatly made. And Merlin knew that Drey had caught them kissing a few times, though he hadn’t quite seemed to have figured out what that really meant just yet.

Merlin sighed to himself. He supposed that it wouldn’t really be too much longer before Drey started to have romantic feelings and would be thinking about having relationships of his own. He was growing so fast. Too fast, in Merlin’s opinion. But Merlin was confident that with Arthur by his side, he could handle anything, even watching his little boy turn into a man.

Merlin heard the door click open and looked up with a smile at his beloved. Arthur, however, was deeply absorbed in his newspaper, a tiny frown maring his perfect face. Merlin got to his feet and approached him, pausing for a moment to enjoy the fact that, since they had returned, Arthur had removed his suit jacket and tie, his collar open just enough to show a hint of the chest hair that Merlin knew lay beneath. Arthur was always stunning, but in the flickering light of the fireplace and the glow from the table lamp, he was even more so.

“What is wrong, darling?” Merlin asked softly, smoothing a hand over Arthur’s worried brow.

Arthur hummed to himself. “The news, of course,” he said brandishing his newspaper at Merlin. “I swear it seems more and more discouraging with every passing day.”

Merlin reached out and plucked the newspaper from his hand, putting it away on the side table. Arthur chased after it, making a desperate noise.

“Now, now, none of that,” Merlin said, tugging him back and placing a kiss on Arthur’s lips. “We have had far too nice an evening to sully it with such things. Finish it tomorrow. I want you tonight.”

He grinned slyly at Arthur, leaving him with no doubts as to what he was talking about. Arthur linked his hands with Merlin’s and kissed him back. “Is that so, Mr Emrys?” he asked, walking him backwards towards the desk.

“Mmmhmm,” hummed Merlin, fingering the collar of Arthur’s shirt and jolting when his back hit the wood. He slid his arms around Arthur’s neck as Arthur grasped his thighs and lifted him onto it. “Of course I do. I always want you.”

“Insatiable, that is what you are,” grumbled Arthur without heat as he sucked kisses into Merlin’s neck. Merlin moaned softly and tilted his head backwards to allow Arthur better access.

“Always have been when it comes to you, darling,” agreed Merlin, wrapping his legs around Arthur’s firm, trim waist. God, he loved this man, wanting him every bit as much as he had the moment they first met. Moreso, now. Arthur was like a drug to him, and Merlin was well and truly addicted. 

Arthur snaked his hand between them and tugged at Merlin’s tie until he had slipped the knot and could discard it on the floor. His nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons of Merlin’s shirt, before untucking it and pushing it from Merlin’s shoulders.

He licked and kissed his way along Merlin’s jaw and down his neck, sucking a bruise where his neck met shoulder. 

“Aah— Arthur!” Merlin groaned, his hands roaming Arthur’s chest blindly as he tried to unbutton his lover’s shirt. 

Arthur pulled away from Merlin to undress, and Merlin whimpered at the loss of contact. Arthur nodded at Merlin’s trousers. “Off,” he commanded.

The determined look on Arthur’s face made Merlin shiver with anticipation. He loved it when their love-making was soft and gentle. He loved it when it was teasing and fun. But he especially loved it when Arthur was the one who took control. He was so confident and sure of himself, in a way he had not been just a short year ago. And it wasn’t often that they did this. It was an occasional treat, reserved for special occasions. 

Merlin slid off the desk and hurriedly stepped out of his trousers. “Take those off too,” said Arthur shortly, nodding at Merlin’s underwear. “I want to see all of you.”

Fuck. Lust uncurled, blooming in Merlin’s gut, and he barely contained a full-on body shudder. Arthur ordering him around like this was always delicious. Arthur circled him, his face serious and calm. Merlin could feel those blue eyes trailing over every inch of flesh as Arthur slowly walked around him, and the feeling of being watched so intensely was both embarrassing and thrilling in equal measure, bringing his length from half-hard to aching.

“Very nice.” Arthur trailed a finger along his side. “Turn around.”

Merlin obeyed. Beside him, Arthur bent down and picked up his tie, humming under his breath before dropping it again. 

“No, not tonight,” he muttered. A moment later, Merlin felt Arthur’s lips pressing tender kisses to his shoulders, and barely resisted the urge to turn his head and claim those lips as his. But that wasn’t how their game worked. Arthur shoved his leg between Merlin’s and pushed them apart, pressing himself against Merlin’s back so that Merlin could feel his answering arousal pressing against him. “You can move, my love.”

Of course, Merlin had always been free to do as he wished, but he did so enjoy this and the way that Arthur cared for him throughout their game. Everything that he did, he did with love. He held his breath as he waited patiently for Arthur to make a move and then shivered as he heard the rustle of clothing as Arthur unbuttoned himself. As he stood still, muscles tense, Arthur’s hand appeared in front of him. 

“Lick.”

Merlin opened his mouth and started to lather Arthur’s fingers with his saliva as he licked and licked, until his tongue was starting to ache from it. Then finally Arthur slid his fingers into Merlin’s mouth where he sucked them in earnest. He could hear Arthur’s breath hitching in his ear as Merlin slid his tongue crudely in and out between his fingers.

“Minx,” Arthur murmured, his breath hot on the side of Merlin’s face. Arthur pulled his hand away from Merlin’s mouth and ran a slick finger down his back. “Bend over the desk, love.”

Merlin readily complied, and behind him he could hear the slick sound of Arthur pleasuring himself. He smiled when he felt Arthur’s free hand, warm and firm, press on his back. 

“Mmm, I am so very happy that all this is mine,” Arthur said, sliding his hand down Merlin’s side and resting it on his hip, rubbing small circles with his thumb. “You are mine, aren’t you, sweetest?”

The way that he asked, so softly and tenderly, reminded Merlin of their first time at the hotel in Argentina. It was so easy to forget how inexperienced Arthur had been then compared to how he was now. Back then, Arthur had just been starting to take the first tentative steps into controlling his life and being his own man. Now, he was a Duke and ran the vast Pendragon estate, as well as working as a successful book illustrator, both for his own work and for other writers also.

Merlin turned to face him, his heart melting at the sight of Arthur standing there, vulnerable again, as if they were back in his cabin oh so long ago, on that fateful cruise.

“Always, Arthur,” he said. “I always have been and always will be.” Merlin moved to smooth the hair back from Arthur’s forehead and smiled at him. “Show me what love is, my darling,” he whispered.

Arthur’s eyes lit up and Merlin knew that he, too, was remembering when he too had said those very words on their first night together. He kissed Merlin with the same impulsiveness as he had then, but gone was the uncertainty. Arthur slid his hands under Merlin’s thighs and lifted him onto the desk in one smooth, practiced movement, then he finally broke their kiss, pushing Merlin back until he was splayed out on the desk in front of him. He studied Merlin’s body with amusement in his eyes.

“What?” asked Merlin, curiously.

“I was just thinking how nicely you’ve filled out this past year.”

“Oi!”

“I wasn’t saying you’re fat,” said Arthur, running his hands along the flat plane of Merlin’s stomach. “Far from it. I do not think you even have it in you—” 

Merlin chuckled. “Not right now, I don’t.”

Arthur grinned and rolled his eyes at him. “Very funny. What I was going to say was, happiness suits you well, Merlin.”

It was true; Merlin had noticed it as well. Ever so slowly as the months passed, happiness, good food and lots of exercise had all contributed to his newfound mass. Finally, Merlin was starting to feel as though he might be someone worth looking at looking twice at. Someone that Arthur could be proud to be with.

Merlin hooked a leg around Arthur’s waist and drew him nearer, grabbing his collar to pull him close for a kiss. “As if I could be anything else when I am with you.”

Arthur hummed contentedly against his lips and then slowly kissed his way down Merlin’s chest, looking up at him with reddened lips. 

“Beautiful,” Arthur said, smoothing his hands over Merlin’s chest admiringly. 

He carried on kissing down to Merlin’s flat stomach, and Merlin silently thanked his lucky stars that, whilst he had filled out some, he was still as trim and slender as he’d always been. He always wanted to look his best for Arthur. He gasped out loud when Arthur nipped at his skin then soothed the sting with his tongue.

“Exquisite.”

Arthur breath was hot against his belly and his hands gripped Merlin’s hips as his kisses traveled lower still. Merlin gasped and fisted his hand in Arthur’s hair when he felt Arthur’s mouth close around his aching cock.

“Oh God, Arthur!” He groaned.

Merlin had learned early on into their relationship that Arthur was a bit of a perfectionist. He had started to realise it back when they had first become intimately acquainted; once they had made love a few times together, Arthur had started questioning him—mid-coitous, mind you—about whether or not what he was doing was pleasurable, and even when it was, Arthur had experimented constantly, changing angles, suction and speed in order to work out the perfect combination that would bring Merlin to climax with the greatest intensity. After an entire year to indulge in this particular form of torturous bliss, Arthur was most definitely an expert on what drove Merlin mad. He could play him like a concert violinist could play their fiddle. Merlin was certainly content with his lot in life, as he too, had been learning Arthur off by heart.

Merlin started to buck into the hot, wet heat of Arthur’s mouth. “Arthur, Arthur... You need to— I’m going to…”

Arthur pulled off and kissed his stomach. “Mmm, no. I have other plans for you.”

He stepped away from Merlin, shedding his shirt and fishing around in his trousers before discarding them. Merlin lifted his head to see what Arthur was up to. He let his head clunk back down on the desk with a groan at the sight of Arthur unscrewing a bottle of oil.

Arthur pushed Merlin’s thighs apart and rubbed his cheek along the inside of his thigh, the day-old stubble scratchy against the tender skin. Merlin shuddered at the sensation, waiting eagerly to see what Arthur would do next. Arthur placed careful kisses along one of Merlin’s legs as his finger sought out his hole. Merlin sucked in a breath as it breached him. 

“Are you okay, my love?” asked Arthur tenderly.

Not long ago Arthur had asked Merlin to tell him about his first time. Not wanting to lie to him, Merlin had told him how rough, quick and painful it had been, assuring Arthur how wonderful their lovemaking was in comparison. Ever since then, Arthur had been slow and meticulous in his preparation, much to Merlin’s annoyance. He was not a delicate flower, and he did not need as much care as Arthur seemed to think he needed. Surely Arthur knew that. They had been living together for a year now, after all, and he hadn’t taken so much care before. But Arthur was insistent about taking his time with Merlin, as if doing that now could wipe out that disastrous first time. It would be sweet if it were not for how frustrating it was.

“Arthur, I am fine. You _know_ I am,” grumbled Merlin. “I would tell you if I were not. I promised you.”

“Mmm,” said Arthur, kissing his belly and glancing up at him.

Merlin lifted his head to glare at him. “I have told you before, I am not girl.”

“Oh, trust me, Merlin. I am _very_ much aware of that,” Arthur chuckled, licking a stripe along Merlin’s straining length. 

Merlin let out a shuddery breath and let his head fall back again. “Then stop treating me as if I were,” he complained.

Arthur pulled his finger out and Merlin let out a whimper of protest that turned into a small yelp of surprise when he felt a hot, wet lick across his hole.

“Oh, God!” Merlin exclaimed.

Arthur licked him again. “I like watching you fall apart, driven mad with want,” he said as he returned it his ministrations.

Merlin lay back, lazily stroking his cock, his breath catching in his throat as Arthur worked. It always felt strange being kissed and licked in such intimate a place. Merlin had been hesitant when Arthur had first suggested they try it. But deep down, he had always been curious, having heard whispers about it when in certain company over the years. He had tried it on Arthur first, who had enjoyed it so immensely—having been wilder and more vocal than Merlin had ever known him to be before—that Merlin had immediately wanted to try it also. And it was a good thing that he had, for he would not want to miss out on such strange hedonism. He supposed the most difficult part had been getting past those initial misgivings; after he had, it had been pure indulgence.

His hips jerked up off of the desk, and his fingers scrabbled to grasp the edges in an effort to restrain himself as Arthur added a finger, pushing it in and out in conjunction with his tongue.

“A-Arthur. Ah! Oh yes, that’s— Ah, ah. I’m— I want—” Merlin babbled.

Arthur added a second finger, and Merlin hissed at the stretch. He felt Arthur stiffen and pause.

“Arthur,” he moaned, reaching down to tug on Arthur’s hair. “Keep going. Please.”

Slowly, Arthur continued to thrust his fingers in and out along with his tongue, loosening the tight muscle and preparing Merlin’s body to receive him. Merlin groaned his approval and pushed himself down onto them greedily, desperate for more, faster than Arthur was willing to give him.

Arthur pulled away.

“Hey,” Merlin cried out.

Arthur grinned against Merlin’s hip and took his time to teasingly kiss his way up Merlin’s body as he writhed beneath him, until he reached Merlin’s lips. Along the way he batted away Merlin’s hand on his arousal and replaced it with his own. “Patience. I know what you want,” murmured Arthur. He reached out to grab the oil and started slick his own length.

He pulled Merlin’s legs around his waist and took both of them in hand. “Ready?” he asked.

Merlin nodded and used his legs to pull Arthur closer as he released them and started to push into Merlin’s tight heat. Merlin breathed slowly through the first initial intrusion until Arthur was all the way in.

“Good?” asked Arthur.

Merlin rolled his eyes. “I can give you a signed letter giving you permission if you would like.” He held out his hand as though he were writing. “I, Merlin Emrys, do hereby give _Lord_ Ar—AH!”

Arthur growled and started to thrust into him with short, sharp thrusts that had Merlin sliding back and forth on the desk. “Shut up, Merlin.”

Merlin huffed out a laugh. “Yes, _my Lord_ ,” he smirked.

He was rewarded with an indignant huff and Arthur leaning over him, pistoning his hips faster. “I said hush about that.”

Merlin let out a long, loud groan as he gripped Arthur’s shoulders and started to roll his hips in sync with his. Even a year later, Merlin still loved this, the chance to finally get to know his lover properly, inside and out, rather than spending nights with men who he would never meet again. And the fact that his lover was Arthur... that he got to be with _him_ , that he got to learn every little nuance and quirk, every little thing that he liked, whether they were making a home or making love—it meant everything to Merlin that they had been blessed with this chance.

It was then he noticed that Arthur had stilled. 

“You promised me you’d tell me if I was hurting you, love,” Arthur said softly

“You’re not! Quite the opposite,” Merlin insisted.

He swiped his thumb across Merlin’s cheekbone, wiping away a tear. “Then why the tears?"

Merlin smiled at him. “Because I’m so, so happy.”

Arthur’s face softened, and he dashed forward to steal a kiss; deep, slow and smouldering as he pulled Merlin into his arms. Merlin instinctively wrapped himself around him and deepened the kiss. 

“I love you,” Merlin gasped, as he pressed his forehead to Arthur’s. Arthur started to lift and thrust into him, and Merlin wriggled his hand between then to grasp his cock, fisting it in time with Arthur’s short, fast lunges. 

“Merlin, Merlin... I love you, too,” Arthur groaned, his chest heavy with the exertion. “I— I’m going to…”

Merlin smoothed a hand through his hair, and pressed a searing kiss to Arthur’s lips. “Come for me, darling,” he whispered, watching as Arthur’s face went slack and his body went taut. He grunted out his release, thrusting twice more before slipping out and lowering Merlin to the desk, trying to regain his breath. Merlin smiled and ran a hand down Arthur’s chest as he leaned back and started to stroke himself, his eyes roving appreciatively over Arthur’s naked form. Merlin knew he would never tire of looking at him; even when they were old and grey together, he would still desire him just as much.

As Arthur caught his breath, he knocked Merlin’s hand away. 

“Let me,” he said. He wrapped a warm hand around Merlin’s shaft, and Merlin took a deep shuddering breath, his eyes slowly fluttering closed.

“Yes,” Merlin whispered, focusing on the feel of Arthur’s hand on his cock pleasuring him. Arousal built in his gut, curling with ever increasing in intensity, until Merlin felt almost as though he couldn’t bear it… His eyes snapped open as he came with a gasp, spilling hot and wet, his vision darkening around the edges.

Merlin laughed as he slumped into Arthur’s waiting arms, and Arthur kissed the top of his head. “Mm, I love watching when you…”

“Mm, me too,” murmurmed Merlin dreamily. “Best part of my day.”

Arthur huffed affectionately at him. “Idiot.”

Merlin pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Clotpole.”

They both froze in their embrace as they heard a voice call out in the hallway. “Dad?” 

They cursed and pulled away, Merlin hastening to gather his clothes and dashing behind the bookshelves. Arthur stepped into his trousers, and had just finishing fastening them up, leaned down to pick up his shirt, when Mordred poked his head around the door.

“Oh, Arthur. Have you seen Dad?”

“You, uh—just missed him,” he said. “Why are you still awake, Drey? You should have been in bed long ago,” Arthur admonished, as he quickly slipped on his shirt and buttoned it up.

Mordred eyed him curiously, looking him up and down, taking him his disheveled appearance. “What on earth have you been doing?” he asked curiously, ignoring Arthur’s question.

Merlin peeked at them from behind the bookshelf. He cursed again under his breath, his face burning with embarrassment as wiped at himself with his handkerchief. Why had they not thought to lock the door? He hurried to pull on his clothes and smoothed his hand through his hair to make himself presentable.

“I-um,” Arthur reached for an excuse that might explain his state of undress. “I’ve—” 

“Have you been kissing my dad again?”

Arthur choked and dropped his tie in surprise. “I— Yes,” he admitted.

Drey grinned at him. “Thought so,” he said triumphantly as he went to sit in a chair by the fire. He glanced over at Arthur, who was retrieving the tie, and asked in a quiet voice, “You love him, don’t you?”

Arthur smiled and walked over to take a seat opposite Drey. “Yes, I love him,” he told him. “We love each other.” 

Mordred pulled his knees up to his chest. “I used to think that only girls and boys loved each other. That’s what Johnny Baines says anyway.”

“Well, Johnny Baines—” began Arthur, indignantly.

“He said his daddy told him that men who—who liked the company of men d-deserved to be hanged,” Mordred burst out. He let out a sob and pressed his head against his knees. Merlin dashed out from behind the bookcase and hurried over, perching on the edge of the chair, smoothing his hand through Drey’s curly hair.

“Johnny Baines and his father are wrong,” Merlin said firmly. “You cannot help who you love, much like you cannot help who you like, despite what others might say.”

Merlin very nearly spoke about his mistake in marrying Sophie, and about finally being free to be himself. But he held his tongue, not wishing Drey to think that he was a mistake. He could never be.

“Your father is right,” Arthur added as he reached over and took Merlin’s hand in his and looked up into his eyes with a smile. “There is nothing wrong with two people being in love.” He wrenched his eyes away from Merlin’s to look over at Drey. “But I think you’re old enough to understand that with people like Johnny Baines’ father in the world, we have to keep this a secret.”

Mordred nodded his head seriously, and Merlin wrapped his arms around him and held his boy close to him.

“Are you upset, Drey?” he asked, looking down at him anxiously.

Mordred shook his head.

“Is there— Do you want to ask us anything?” said Arthur.

Mordred frowned, thinking to himself. “Well, there is one thing,” he said.

Merlin smoothed down his hair. “Of course, my boy. What is is?”

Drey screwed his face up, it was so comical, Merlin couldn’t stop his lips from twitching with suppressed laughter. “Could you stop kissing everywhere? Kissing is so yucky.”

Arthur threw back his head and laughed so hard that Merlin, who had been fighting against laughter himself, finally gave in and laughed along with him.

Mordred rolled his eyes at them until their chuckles subsided.

“Okay,” said Merlin, ushering him from the chair. “To bed with you.”

“But I haven’t asked you my question yet!” Drey protested.

“And what is that, pray tell?” Merlin asked him with a grin.

Mordred got up from the chair. “I wanted to ask if we could go out riding tomorrow. Elena said we could have a picnic. But I want you to come too, Daddy.” 

Merlin smiled and kissed him on the forehead. “Of course we can. But only if you go straight to bed.”

Mordred smiled brightly at him and give him a quick squeeze. “I will. Good night, Dad. Good night, Arthur.”

He watched Mordred leave and as the door closed, Arthur wrapped his arms around him and snuggled against him. “That was close,” he murmured, pressing kisses along Merlin’s neck. 

Merlin hummed in agreement. “I knew he suspected,” he said.

“Still didn’t expect him to come straight out with it,” commented Arthur, rubbing his nose against Merlin’s cheek. “He took it very well. Though I can’t see why he shouldn’t. I’m sure, like me, he’s noticed how happy his father is.”

“Oh, and you think you’re the reason why, hmm?” Merlin teased.

“I know I am,” Arthur replied smugly. “You told me so this very night. Time for bed, my love?”

Merlin turned and grinned at him. “Yes, bed. Our bed. First one there gets to choose what we do tomorrow,” said Merlin with a wink, slipping out of Arthur’s arms and dashing to the door.

Arthur made a noise of protest. “Merlin!”

Within moments, Merlin could hear heavy footsteps chasing him through the house, in the most scandalous fashion for two fully-grown men, let alone a Duke and a respected architect. 

Arthur chased him all the way through the hallways, up the grand staircase and off into the wing of the house that contained their bedrooms before he finally caught up with him, Merlin having stopped outside their chamber, breathless with laughter.

He pressed Merlin up against the door. “You are both the best _and_ the worst thing,” he laughed.

“And yet you love me,” said Merlin delightedly.

“I do,” said Arthur, his eyes shining.

“Stay with me,” Merlin said, taking his hand and leading him into their bedroom.

“Always,” Arthur replied.


End file.
